


all your heroes turn to villains

by mariya



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Genderbending, Mentions of drugs/human trafficking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariya/pseuds/mariya
Summary: Left with no choice, Soonyoung turns to an old enemy for help. Slowly, she starts to wonder if being a hero is worth it.From there, she can only spiral.





	1. Chapter 1

Facial recognition pins Minghao down in Yunnan. The grainy surveillance footage shows her emerging from an unmarked car carrying only a bag. Her ride stalls by the curb, windows tinted. Kunming’s double-wide streets are usually empty this hour. Seungchol switches the footage to a different angle where Minghao looks unblinkingly into the camera.

Soonyoung feels, acutely, like she’s lost a pint of blood. Minghao stares for all of three seconds. Even cracks a fucking smile before she enters the building, back facing the outer security cameras as she disappears into Kunming’s city hall.

“What else do you have?”

“Bank transactions, more surveillance footage.” Seungchol smiles, flat. “She opened a library card.”

An invitation, if nothing else. They couldn’t trace her for five years and suddenly she’s everywhere.

“What does she want?”

“To say hi,” Soonyoung says, voice tight.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” She can feel Seungchol looking at the side of her face. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Her hand tightens on the back of his chair. “We can’t let Chen escape.”

It’s utilitarianism at its finest. In any other situation Soonyoung wouldn’t go, only Chen is too dangerous to lose. He’d level a city without a second thought just to get what he wants. Last time he was free, he brought lightning down upon half of Haeundae and pulverized the skyline before they took him down. Soonyoung remembers chasing him through the city, stepping between scorched bodies melting into the pavement.

She looks hard down at Minghao’s pixelated face. “Where is she now?”

Seungchol tells her about a restaurant in the Old Town of Lijiang that was recently acquired by a Korean. The only Korean on the block, Yoon Jeonghan, shows up in public record as deceased.

Seungchol hands her the only gear she’ll have, an earpiece. “Be careful, you’re on your own.”

She turns it on and fits it into her ear. He used to lead Minghao through her missions back when she was still good for fieldwork, when her psychopathy was still contained. “I’ll be fine. See you in a bit.”

She closes her eyes in Seungchol’s office and opens them in the Old Town of Lijiang. Dayan is as beautiful as the photos show, and just as busy. People crowd the narrow sloping cobblestone streets. Bright stores hedge the street in. Soonyoung tries not to feel claustrophobic as she walks past the stores selling food and trinkets, hands jammed into her jacket pockets. The night’s cold. She should’ve brought a thicker jacket.

She gets off the main streets and walks down a set of stone stairs leading to the tributary cutting through the town. The streets behind the shops are quiet and dark, lined with dim lanterns that lead the way further into the mountain. She passes by empty teashops and hostels. It feels like these shops are just duplicating. None of the storefronts match the photo Seungchol showed her.

At the end of the road, just as she’s thinking Yoon Jeonghan is a dead lead, she sees a lattice partition wall with the head of a dragon carved into the center. The light from the restaurant behind it filters through the lattice, brightening the dragon’s eyes, mouth open in a sneer. Soonyoung stares dead straight at the dragon. The passing figure of a woman inside the restaurant darkens the dragon’s face.

Past the lattice wall is the restaurant in the photos. Soonyoung’s chest seizes up. She thinks of Minghao in the surveillance footage. Of Minghao on the steps of the British Museum, 51-billion won painting tucked beneath her arm. Every second she waits increases Chen’s chances of escaping. She forces everything down and walks in.

The waitress does a slow doubletake. She looks at Soonyoung for a long time before gesturing for her to follow, seating her at a booth in the center of the room.

She makes quick work of tea and brings an entire set. The porcelain is so thin you can see the light from the other side. China-blue flowers decorate the lip of the cup, right where the mouth lays. If the dragon wall isn’t a sign that Minghao is here, this is. Such a nice set can only be part of Minghao’s collection. A welcome, if nothing else. A sign of goodwill.

It’s been more than just a while. If she doesn’t count the last time they saw each other, then it’s been nearly eight years. Eight years is enough to change anyone.

A hand parts the curtain covering the backroom. Soonyoung looks up. Minghao draws the curtain slow over her shoulder, coming into the light. Their eyes meet across the span of the restaurant. All those years did nothing but sharpen her. Trimmed away the kindness, the naivety, until at last she emerged from the forge unrecognizable to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung knows the drill. She serves the tea as polite as she knows how.

Minghao laughs as she sinks into the booth, sweeping her hair to one side. “What’s this? Aren’t we familiar with each other?”

Soonyoung fucks up the pour. She pours too much; it rounds the lip of the cup and spills. That’s the cup she takes. The porcelain is so thin it burns her fingers, but she holds it in. Pretends it doesn’t hurt. “I don’t know. It’s been awhile.”

“It’s been more than just awhile. What do you want, Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Chen escaped from Busan two weeks ago. He’s somewhere in Northern China. If he leaves China, we won’t be able to pursue him.”

“And why not.”

“You know why not. He’s going to escape to someplace with no extradition treaty.”

“Drag him back anyway.”

“And piss off a foreign government? PLEDIS won’t do something like that. We have rules.”

Minghao’s unimpressed. Soonyoung hates the way she looks at her. Like she’s fucking nothing, like she’s dumb. “Your rules are about to let a murderer go.”

“They’re not my rules!” The restaurant quiets. Everyone turns to look at her. Soonyoung flushes angrily, places the cup down, and covers her eyes. Collects herself enough to get on with it. Spits, “Will you capture Chen?”

Minghao tilts her chin up imperiously. “No wonder PLEDIS sent you.”

Soonyoung grits, “I wasn’t sent.”

Whatever that information is worth, it changes Minghao’s mind. All the suspicion she arrived with disappears in that second because in the next, she’s rising from her seat.

“I’ll get your man,” she says simply, buttoning her suit jacket. “I like the idea of you owing me."

Not even a week later, Chen walks into PLEDIS casual as anything and surrenders. Months of searching ended, just like that.

Soonyoung is the first to arrive. She teleports to the first floor and sees Chen on his knees right on top of PLEDIS’ bronze seal. His eyes are glazed over when he looks up. Her voice is soft, the only sound in the room.

“Where there any casualties?”

Chen smirks. “Who do you think I am?”

Soonyoung cuffs him. “Then what do you want in return? For helping me.”

She can feel Minghao’s eyes on her as she moves, Chen’s head remaining eerily still. “Ask me in person.”

When Soonyoung walks into the training room that Monday, the room erupts in applause. The trainees hoot. The youngest recruit comes up to her; Chan’s been in the program for almost six months. He’s like most of their trainees—young and eager to prove themselves.

He asks, “How’d you get Chen to come to you? Did you bait him? Blackmail him?”

Soonyoung smacks him upside the head. “Same way I’m gonna get all of you to run thirty laps.”

The entire class groans. Chan whines, “But we already ran yesterday.”

Soonyoung waves him away. “Hear that, everyone? Thirty laps then you each go up against me. If you can pin me, I’ll tell you how I did it.”

She comes in once a week to train the recruits. The training hasn’t changed much since she was in their position, running endless laps around this very room, except back then there were half as many trainees and PLEDIS actually had a good reputation. Soonyoung used to get her ass beat right here, same way she puts these kids through their paces. She remembers the first day of training. She had been so excited, couldn’t sleep from all the anticipation. Nothing really excites her the same way anymore.

She fucking decimates Chan on the mats, lays him out in five seconds flat. Quickest she’s ever pinned anyone. She tries the same moves on the next trainee just to see if they’ve been paying attention. She goes in with a throat punch and follows up with a punch to the solar plexus, and when the trainee stumbles, swipes her feet out and gets her down on her back in seven seconds. It’s kind of therapeutic, actually.

Junhui comes in eating a bag of chestnuts as she’s halfway done kicking ass. She spits the shells into her hand.

“You should go easy on them,” Junhui says, wincing when Chan comes back for seconds and gets his arm twisted up and back.

Soonyoung lets his arm go, pushing her hair out of her face. “You going easy on them? Is that why they’re so bad at sparring?”

“Sometimes noona takes us out for ice cream,” Chan says, resting where he faceplanted.

“Okay, I’ll level. All of you can fight me at once. If you can pin me, I’ll buy you ice cream.”

They still don’t manage to pin her. She buys them ice cream anyway. Junhui tags along and together they shuffle outside the building in a neat line. She feels like an elementary school teacher.

“Some of them are still kids, they deserve ice cream,” Junhui says as they watch them crowd around the refrigerated box outside the dingy convenience store.

Soonyoung feels a little weird watching them pick ice cream. At most, they’re only thirteen years younger than she is. “You’re soft. I had my arm dislocated the first time we sparred.”

Junhui makes a face. “Minghao dislocated something for everybody. Don’t you wanna be remembered as the ice cream unnie, not as the _Dislocater?_”

It was Minghao who trained her class even though she was a year younger than everyone. Whenever she came walking down the halls, someone would call, _the Dislocater is coming!_ and everybody would scramble. All heroes had training duties and they cycled out each week, but not Minghao. She was no longer on active duty by the time Soonyoung was accepted into PLEDIS.

Soonyoung can feel Junhui staring at the side of her face, trying to gauge her reaction to Minghao’s name. She pretends to not notice and goes to pay the owner. Maybe she’s known as the _Dislocater_ now because the moment these bastards get their ice cream they scatter.

“What do they call me secretly?” Soonyoung says, watching them leave. “What do they call you secretly?”

Junhui smiles. “Ice cream unnie.”

Soonyoung purses her mouth. Mutters, “Ice cream my ass,” and walks off.

The only thing that will save you in combat is training. When all else fails—your emotions, your gear, your plan, you still have muscle memory. Rote memorization. She trains everyone hard because everything’s about prevention. If she teaches them well and they learn correctly, if nothing in her control is left to chance, then they might survive. That’s what this is all about.

Junhui follows after her, linking their arms together. “Miss Despot—”

“They call me miss?” Soonyoung squawks.

“—I saw the news last week.”

Ah, shit.

Junhui frowns. “I wouldn’t have brought up Minghao for no reason. Chen looked off. What have you done, Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung slips out of Junhui’s grasp. “I wasn’t gonna let Haeundae happen again.”

They’re all heroes, here. They’d sacrifice themselves in an instant if it means someone else gets to live. It’s not something Junhui would ever argue against. She’s silent.

She says, eventually, “Just be careful. And let me know if she tries anything.”

“What’re you gonna do? You’re gonna kick her ass for me?”

“What?” Junhui laughs, loud and annoying. “Fight the _Dislocater?_ Are you kidding me? No. I’ll hold onto her leg and beg her to leave us alone.”

“I feel so safe.”

"You have to wait till I get back from Changsha though.”

“How long is your mission?”

“About a month. Try not to kill Wonwoo while I’m gone.”

Soonyoung is silent. Junhui suddenly turns on her, drawing her in, Soonyoung laughing as she pushes Junhui away by the face. “Okay, okay! I’ll try my best, fuck.”

All lies. She knows it as she says it. Whatever Minghao wants, she won’t burden Junhui with.

She returns to Dayu alone and materializes right before the dragon wall. The lights from the restaurant light up its eyes. She thinks, viciously, after she’s done killing Minghao she’ll come back to destroy this fucking wall. Anybody who likens themselves to a dragon is never benevolent or wise enough to be worthy of it. Most of them are dicks, case and point. She turns away from the wall, annoyed, and enters the restaurant.

This time, Minghao’s waiting for her. “Did you eat yet?”

Soonyoung just looks at her.

“Have dinner with me. We have a long conversation.”

Before Soonyoung even replies, dishes start coming out the kitchen, still steaming hot by the time it hits the table. Cured pork with chili peppers, wild mushrooms, lemongrass grilled fish. Soonyoung settles slowly into the booth, wanting to get this over with. Minghao scoops rice into a bowl and hands it to her. The rice is white and fluffy, the steam smells delicious. There’s nothing like the smell of fresh rice in the cold. She takes the bowl, their hands touching.

It’s fucking weird, is what it is, sitting with Minghao at a restaurant like she’s polite company. She still eats delicately too, like a bird, like she didn’t run Soonyoung over six years ago with a fucking truck.

Soonyoung has so many questions. She starts with the simplest one. “Why’d you let us find you?”

“Because you wouldn’t have found me otherwise. We should acknowledge our shortcomings, shouldn’t we?”

Soonyoung slams her bowl down, shaking the entire table. “You called me out here just to be a dick? You think I wanna be here? You’re the _last_ person I wanna talk to.”

“And yet in the end you still had to rely on someone like me. You can barely protect the people you swore to protect. This is all you’re capable of, Soonyoung.”

“What about you?” Soonyoung hisses. “You just stopped trying! You fucking gave up! What the fuck does that make you? You gave up on your values just because it got hard to keep believing in them.”

Minghao narrows her eyes. “It’s easy to have an unyielding, righteous moral code when you’re young and unexperienced. If I was going to give up anything just because it got hard, I wouldn’t have been a superhero at all. You know that. My values just changed.”

Soonyoung digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, frustrated. The energy suddenly going away from her. “Enough. This doesn’t even matter anymore, just tell me what you want.”

Minghao’s ice fucking cold. Her face is unmoving and impassive, just like the first time they sparred and she nearly choked Soonyoung to death. Eight fucking years and they’re still fighting like this. She lays the chopsticks across the lip of the bowl and hands her a file, the dishes untouched.

“This is my competitor, Byun Baekhyun. The file has enough information to convict him for seven counts of grand theft but Interpol’s never been able to build a case against him. I want you to help me get rid of him.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Baekhyun’s got a good reputation. No one will want to buy from me if I sell him out—he’s got too many connections in Korea, but if everyone starts to suspect associating with him is a bad idea, they’ll stop supporting him. He’s been gatekeeping the market for too long and I want him gone.”

Soonyoung’s hands start to sweat. Baekhyun’s dead eyes look up at her. “If I say no?”

“You’re not in a position to say no. If it makes you feel any better, you take down Baekhyun and I’ll move into his market. When you eventually capture me, you’ll have the black market for art cornered in Korea.”

Soonyoung turns to the last page. There’s a picture of a European painting. A boy in blue silk clothes, hand placed on a cocked hip.

Minghao gazes longingly at the photo. “That’s _Blue Boy_. He beat me to it.”

“Where’s it now?”

“Who knows. Baekhyun can hardly manage his business let alone prepare paintings for travel. Half the art he transports ends up damaged. We’re thieves but we should still respect art.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “So that’s why you’re doing this, huh? Because you care so much about art.”

“That and I don’t like Baekhyun.” Minghao smiles.

She shuts the file. “I’ll think about it.”

“You don’t have much to think about, Soonyoung.”

She stands and tucks the file neatly beneath her arm as Minghao picks up her bowl and resumes her meal. She feels, suddenly, annoyed that Minghao got her to sit down with her, like somehow Minghao just got her way.

“I said I’ll think about it,” she says, turning away.

Soonyoung wordlessly places the file on Seungchol’s desk. He looks at it for a long time, then closes his eyes tight.

She falls back on the couch, hands over her eyes. “I was stupid to think she wouldn’t want anything in return.”

Seungchol finally opens the file. “So was I.”

Byun Baekhyun is 32. A little young to hold the kind of influence he does over art trafficking, but we’ve all heard his kind of success story. It’s just as Cockroach Hamilton says, that age-old maxim. Never underestimate how quickly old pussy can raise a man to new heights.

Baekhyun’s directly connected to seven art heists. If that isn’t incriminating enough, he’s got connections to Seoul’s drug trade. Word is, he and Kyungsoo went to the same afterschool. Built some real rapport. Now Kyungsoo pushes meth and Baekhyun moves his money. The easiest way to move large sums of money without getting caught? Art, antiquities, jewelry. Somewhere, Kyungsoo’s supplier is sitting pretty with a Vermeer valued at 100 billion won.

All that fucking meth just for a Vermeer. Kyungsoo sits atop an ivory tower made of methamphetamine.

Seungchol leans back in his chair, head tilted back. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Soonyoung says, head in her hands, confession coming out like she’s regurgitating her fucking skeleton. “I still think I did the right thing by going to her. And it was worth it—I don’t want anyone to die. So this, isn’t it fine? Isn’t it better to have Minghao instead of Baekhyun? Between the two, Minghao does less harm. And then she wouldn’t work for Kyungsoo.”

Seungchol furrows his brow. “We can’t predict Minghao, Soonyoung. We don’t know her anymore, her asking this of us is proof of that. This is only worth it if we get Kyungsoo too, but no one’s been able to build a case against him. I’m not confident that we can either.”

Heroism used to be easier, back when she wasn’t making judgement calls. Stuff like—moral opportunity cost, deontology, whatever the fuck, didn’t exist for her. Somebody else called the shots and she was just called in to kick ass. Now, she looks at Kyungsoo’s mug shot. He looks young in the photo, can’t be much older than 25.

What makes her decide? Each time Kyungsoo takes the stand, the witnesses that were willing to talk fall silent on the stand. In some cases, they disappear. And all the while Kyungsoo sits straight-backed in the defendant chair, a smirk on his face. It’s no secret what he does to people who talk to the police. Somebody like that, a grade A piece of _shit,_ Soonyoung has no patience for.

“We can’t but I bet Minghao can.”

“You’re really proposing we work together with her?”

“If it gets Kyungsoo off the streets.”

“This all started because we asked for Minghao’s help. We can’t just keep going on like this, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung grips the file tight. “We got Chen. We saved thousands of lives.”

“Does that really justify working with a fugitive?”

“All I know is that this is our best chance. Minghao’s blackmailing us. The best way we can play it is to get Kyungsoo.”

“Or we could end it right here.”

“You like that option?”

Seungchol sighs, deflating in his chair. “They all equally suck.”

“That’s why we should choose the one that will save the most lives.”

A job like this where morality rules, they spend a lot of time just staring at each other. It used to be weird before it became the standard. The consequences of each decision are too big to not look forward. Seungchol blinks at last.

“I’m worried about you being in contact with Minghao more than you have to. It’s not a good idea.”

“I can handle her.”

“It’s not a matter of you being able to handle the situation. She could use her powers and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“She would never turn her back on her own code, whatever the fuck that is. She has too much pride to do certain things, Seungchol. I at least know that about her.”

Seungchol presses his hands to his temple and takes a deep breath. He exhales and stands. “Fuck it. Let’s get Kyungsoo.”

Soonyoung drops in unannounced at Minghao’s restaurant. She walks straight in and disrupts Minghao in the middle of her meal. She sits down, tucking her legs beneath the table, as Minghao delicately wipes her mouth.

“If you take over Baekhyun’s market, will you work with Kyungsoo?”

“I don’t mess with drugs.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Minghao smiles a little, eyes curving pleasantly. Harmlessly. “I have no interest in dealing outside of art, and I’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

Soonyoung curls her lip. “You ran me over with a truck.”

The bitch looks _contemplative._ Doesn’t have to say a single thing, her face says it all. You deserved it. “You’ve seen my record. Answer it yourself.”

Soonyoung poured over her record obsessively the first couple of years she disappeared, could recite that shit on command. Minghao swore off the two things that will make you rich in this world, drugs and pussy. A year into her disappearance, she appeared briefly and destroyed a human trafficking operation in Henan. Killed the ringleader and his men, stacked the bodies up like motherfucking Jenga.

Soonyoung says, “I want Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.”

Minghao laughs, a little incredulous. “You’re too ambitious. Kyungsoo keeps a low profile, he’s meticulous.”

“If he’s so meticulous, what about Baekhyun? Why keep him around if he’s sloppy?

Minghao keeps her eyes right on Soonyoung. “Why else but sentiment.”

Soonyoung narrows her eyes. “Tell me more about Kyungsoo.”

“All I know is that his base is in the Seungbok District, and his supplier is Chinese. He imports the majority of his product from China.”

“What about the Vermeer?”

“Ah.” Minghao finally looks away. “Thirty years ago, Baekhyun’s predecessor and her team stole thirteen paintings from an American museum. After she died, he started selling them off. The Vermeer went to Kyungsoo’s man.”

“You wanted it.”

Minghao smiles slightly. “If only to save it from a horrible fate.”

Soonyoung raises a brow. It’s like alchemy; it turns Minghao’s smile sincere. “Baekhyun’s the horrible fate, huh?”

“Baekhyun is where paintings go to die. He rolls them up and stuffs them in a tube for transportation. You get where I’m coming from now, right?”

“No.”

Minghao opens her body to Soonyoung. Slings one arm over the back of the booth. “Have I changed so much that you don’t even recognize me?”

Soonyoung gets hit with three brain aneurysms simultaneously. She leans forward on the table, hands pressed up to the edge of it, and hisses, “I don’t know you at all. Stop acting like I do.”

“Our past doesn’t go away just because you want it to.”

“It’s not about wanting the past to go away, I don’t give a shit about that. You betrayed me. You think I really know you after that?”

Minghao furrows her brow, saying nothing.

She rises. Says, as she leaves, “That’s what I thought.”

If Minghao wants to talk about recognition, then let’s start here.

Years ago, Minghao walked right into the British Museum during open hours and stole 65 Rembrandts all while visitors and security watched. Had the entire building under her influence, brought a curator up from five floors underground and had him open the cases and pack the sketches and paintings for safe travel. 65 fucking Rembrandts.

And—get this. Girl came out of the _main_ fucking entrance. Had _ovaries_. Who wouldn’t, if you were a class five telepath, if you were, at a time, not only at the top your class but the most powerful telepath of the century.

Soonyoung was waiting for her outside the museum. Last time they saw each other, Minghao’s telepathy was all out of whack. Needed serious recalibration. Looking at her now, slowly coming down the steps of the museum, framed by the mile-high ceiling of the portico and the ionic columns, she seemed near recovered. She stopped right where the shade met the sun and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Minghao,” Soonyoung said, heart to her throat as she stepped right in Minghao’s path. “What are you doing?”

Minghao said nothing, just stared.

Soonyoung stepped closer, palms up. Pleading. “Come on, put the paintings back.”

Nothing but silence. Minghao didn’t even move, just watched Soonyoung at the base of the steps.

“Fine,” she hissed, the desperation giving way to frustration, anger, pain. “I’ll drag you home.”

Later, she’d say she was just caught off guard. She’d say, unlike Minghao’s record, that she had been under Minghao’s control. Truth was, she just got dumb. She got angry. Three years of searching for Minghao and the first time they met again, she looked at her with contempt. It surprised Soonyoung so much that she barely heard the truck coming until she was hit by it. Coming at light fucking speed, slamming into her from behind and cracking her head on the museum steps.

Minghao walked past her. Soonyoung tried to get up. She heaved up blood, each cough feeling like she was about to split out of her skin. When she turned her head, Minghao was getting in the truck.

Soonyoung got the fuck up. It was gonna end like this over her dead fucking body—she forced her ankle back into its socket and walked until her hip popped back into place. She braced her hands beneath the metal ledge of the truck and hooked her fingers in tight, pulling the truck back even as it accelerated. She pressed her forehead against the shipping container and screamed. Smoke poured from the tires, swallowing her.

Three years, and this was how it was gonna end? Because she let down her guard a little? Soonyoung held onto the truck—summoned all her fucking strength to hold it back, because this was Minghao they were talking about. If she could only stop the fucking truck, Minghao could come home.

Her heels dragged twin trenches in the ground. First, slowly. Then, all at once until she couldn’t hold on any longer and felt her fingers unglue from beneath the truck as it dragged her forward off her feet, skinning her entire body against the concrete until she finally let go.

The whole time, Minghao didn’t say a word. Like they didn’t even know each other.

Water under the bridge, all of it. High tumultuous waters. The worst part is, she never even had a chance to get over it. The whole thing brought her nothing but infamy. The ass-beating immortalized on the internet, she still can’t do a press conference without Minghao coming up. You still got contact with her? Is the pussy still bomb?

The fallout was bad. PLEDIS never really recovered from it. Not only was their best hero—their only A-lister—gay, she was dirty! There was no coming back. But nobody was more hurt than Soonyoung, despite all the rumors. That she had secretly set the whole thing up just to take Minghao’s place in PLEDIS’ lineup, that she had doomed the city in thinking she could replace Minghao. She could never clear her name of it.

People like to say her relationship with Minghao was what made her and not anything else. She would’ve never become a great hero, not with her powers. What made her ended up killing her chances in the end, but it wasn’t like that. Her relationship with Minghao—if she had a chance, if she could fucking choose, she wouldn’t have chosen to be gay. She would’ve loved to have a chance at being straight. Would’ve loved to live an inconspicuous life, shacked up with somebody plain but good for her, but instead she got Minghao. Minghao who at the height of her career had fame following her like a possession.

She can’t stop thinking of Minghao. She thinks so much of her that she’s sick of it. Day in, day out, she thinks of meeting her in Dayu. She plays it over and over in her head as though repetition might reveal something to her. All that bullshit she said about recognition.

Realization runs into her slow. Minghao wants, more than anything, to be understood by her.

Soonyoung gets punched through four consecutive buildings in the heart of downtown Seoul. Hundai, Daewoo, Citibank, and a fucking McDonalds she comes out the other end covered in soft serve. Chanyeol is on the warpath.

Downtown is smoked. Chanyeol screams fire—flames flash through the smoke. Powerful but dumb, for a long time he was classified as low threat until whoever kept him on retainer cut him loose. That was all it took to ignite him. Heat, oxygen, fuel. Chanyeol comes climbing out of the rubble, bringing the heat with him. His eyes whited out, hair a crown of flames upon his head.

Soonyoung’s heart stoppers at the throat. Fighting villains never gets easier. Chanyeol’s out of his fucking mind, too. He comes raging, scorching the brick black where she stood seconds ago.

Close combat with Chanyeol only means third degree burns. You land a punch and consequently the skin of your knuckles gets charred off. Soonyoung teleports behind him and bars her arm across his throat, the heat of him searing her entire body. She gets him in a blood choke. Bicep on his right carotid, forearm on his left, and tries to bear the pain of the burn. Doesn’t even care that she’s crushing his windpipe, she needs to take him _out._

Chanyeol goes fucking nuts; his body temperature spikes. All it takes is seven seconds of hard pressure on the carotids to incapacitate someone. She counts them down, tries to choke him out tighter, begging for it to work. Four, five, _six,_ and on seven Chanyeol fucking combusts and blows out every window on the block, melting the skin right off Soonyoung’s body.

He turns around and grips her throat with one fiery hand, pinning her to the ground. He squeezes tight. Soonyoung wheezes. Looks up into the white nothingness of his eyes and blinks the fuck out, a street behind him.

She gets to her feet. Sees her reflection in the broken glass. Her muscles are exposed, all of her skull and teeth, and Seungchol’s telling her:

“Backup’s outside Seodaemun station. Can you get him to follow you?”

Soonyoung glances over her shoulder. She yells at Chanyeol, voice shredded, “I heard your girl didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

She dives behind a car, landing hard on her elbows as Chanyeol incinerates the sidewalk. She keeps going. Drags her body across broken glass until her muscles repair enough for her to bolt. Behind her, Chanyeol rumbles, tears steaming off his face. He comes up the street and melts the floor he walks. Terrified faces peer out from office buildings.

“Because you’re a dumb piece of shit,” Soonyoung says, trying to keep her voice even. “She said you weren’t smart enough to keep up with her.”

“_You’re dumb,_” Chanyeol rumbles, voice hollow like a dying star. “Everybody knows about you. You couldn’t even see that your own girlfriend was evil.”

“Anybody’s smarter than you, Chanyeol. Do you even know addition, asshole? Hey—what's two plus two?”

Seungchol’s voice breaks through the sound of Chanyeol exploding the car next to her. “Make a sharp left ahead, you’re almost there.”

Soonyoung heads left, nearly tripping over herself in the process. Chanyeol’s advancing. The street goes on for an endless mile. She teleports herself halfway as Chanyeol propels himself like a rocket, coming up so close behind her the heat burns the back of her neck. She thinks she might really die this time, except she blinks out one final time at the end of the road right at the train station, collapsing on the ground, nails digging into the concrete.

You know immediately when you’re in the presence of a first-class anything. Train and practice as much as you want, but you’ll never have the luck, the sheer ability, to match what a talented motherfucker can do. Soonyoung isn’t the pride of PLEDIS. She isn’t the strongest, fastest, or the smartest. She just stopped feeling bad about it.

The moment Chanyeol crosses the junction into Chungjeong road, Suho brings an ocean down on him. He sears through it, water steaming off him. Suho is relentless. She hits him with another ten tons of water, and this time Xiumin follows up with the ice, freezing him in place. His body’s hot like the surface of a star—the ice steams, melts and caves at his head. His hair falls black over his eyes.

Suho wraps his head in water. Says evenly, “Don’t test me, Chanyeol. I will kill you.”

What happens after that, Soonyoung isn’t entirely privy to. Her body shuts down, she blacks out. She hears later from Seungchol that Xiumin had carried her out, and that her body was still smoking even as she was wheeled into medbay. Zero casualties. Fuck you, Chanyeol.

The recovery is slow. Chanyeol’s burns are nasty, they have a tendency to linger. She looks up at the ceiling. She’s looked up at this same ceiling so many times. Been here sick, hurt, inconsolable.

She hates medbay. It’s always here that she falls back into her bad habits. Bored out of her mind, she takes to searching herself. It used to be fun, back when compliments were new to her, when she yearned for everyone’s approval. She used to have a fucking Google hit on her name. Now, compliments don’t mean much to her. She looks out for criticism instead, wants to know. Some weird self-flagellation she indulges in when she’s already in pain.

The general consensus is this: as far as first responders go, Soonyoung must be the worst. From the start of her career to now, what has she done other than lure the villain to someone better and stronger than her? She can’t catch a plane falling out of the sky, her hostage negotiation skills are shot—and honestly, if Suho and Xiumin hadn’t been there, Chanyeol would’ve killed her.

She lays her phone down on her stomach and looks up at the ceiling, numb. Listening to the rhythmic beep of the EKG.

That very week, Soonyoung goes straight from medbay to Minghao’s restaurant, limping in. The skin of her stomach is still raw. Seungchol wouldn’t let her out of medbay until she could do sit-ups without her stitches simultaneously exploding. She falls into the booth, exhausted. Seungchol told her to go another day, but if Minghao saw the news then she doesn’t want to show any weakness even if it means blowing out all her stitches in the process.

Soonyoung waits, watching the clock. Tea arrives before Minghao. She drinks one round. Halfway through the second round, the waitress places a trivet in front of her. Soonyoung looks up, confused.

Minghao finally emerges from the kitchen with a clay pot in her hands. She carefully brings it to the table and sets it on the rack. “Sorry I’m late.”

Maybe Soonyoung left medbay too soon. It feels like her heart still has residual burns. She stares at the pot, thinking there’s no way, as she slowly lifts the cover.

Steam curls up to meet her, the smell of _wuji tang_ bringing her back to the days she came home beat and battered and wanting to be taken care of, following the smell of food down the hallway and into the kitchen. Minghao used to tell her all about the curative properties of black chicken while Soonyoung laid her feet into her lap. Wolfberry, red date, ginger, simmered for two hours, yields a killer cocktail of nutrition that could revive even the most anemic motherfucker.

Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. “You invited me here to drink soup?”

“I wanted an update on Baekhyun.”

Soonyoung glances back down. Her distorted face looks back up. “I don’t have one.”

Minghao shrugs. “Next time. Drink.”

The heat of the soup warms her all the way through. She hasn’t had this in years. All the food she used to like eating with Minghao she hasn’t touched since. If only she could let things go. The pain of loss and betrayal just never went away; in the intervening years it’d grown mountainous, hideous and unconquerable, something people died trying to climb. She just never moved on. Died on that mountain herself.

Soonyoung speaks into the spoon, keeping her head low. It must be the heat talking. Medbay. Cooped up like that for so long, you start to think. “Do you ever regret leaving PLEDIS?”

Minghao is quiet. Soonyoung looks up a little, soup spilling back into the pot when they make eye contact. She speaks softly, without bite or heat. “Even after all these years, I’m still angry at you. We used to fight a lot toward the end. I guess that still hasn’t changed.”

“It’s because—” Soonyoung’s voice comes too loud. She retreats. Recalibrates. Comes again, “I couldn’t understand you anymore, and you thought I could. How could I understand something so crazy, Minghao? You couldn’t have left PLEDIS. You were too powerful, they’d never let you go.”

“So you thought it’d be better to go behind my back and report me? They would’ve locked me up either way until I changed my mind, and even then I’d be under constant surveillance. Like you said. Who’d let a telepath roam the streets.”

“I thought it was the best thing to do at the time,” Soonyoung says miserably. “I don’t know. I didn’t think a mistake could cost me so much.”

Minghao goes quiet. She places her hands on the table, fingers loosely intertwined. Her lacquered nails catch the light. “I don’t regret anything. I’m fine where I am now.”

“You’re happy?”

“I’m content.” She smiles. “You know how I feel about happiness.”

Soonyoung remembers. It’s weird, trying to reconcile a younger version of Minghao with who she is now.

“In the past, I could never really pinpoint what I wanted. Now that I’m older, I know what I wanted. Freedom.”

“You didn’t have freedom back then?”

Minghao looks at her. “You’re living the life now. You can answer that yourself.”

“I’m working for the greater good. There’s going to be a sacrifice.”

Minghao doesn’t stop looking at her. Doesn’t fucking blink, doesn’t make any notion that she knows how to carry a normal conversation. “You think it’s worth it?”

Soonyoung shrugs like it’ll push the weight of Minghao’s attention off her shoulders. “Mostly.”

“You’re still so noble.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment. Soonyoung looks down at the soup. Redirects the conversation. “The trainees still ask about how it was like working with you. You were amazing. You could’ve taken Chanyeol down in a second.”

Minghao laughs softly, resting her head back on the booth. She looks tired too. “Yeah, well. I didn’t, you did.”

“Xiumin and Suho did.”

“But you saved all those lives.”

Soonyoung feels inexplicably shy. Tries to angle her face down to hide it. “It was a team effort.”

Minghao speaks up at the ceiling with a smile. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

You want to know about the most powerful super of the century?

At a time, Minghao was the pride of PLEDIS. Young and powerful, at the end of her career no other superhero her age came close to her list of achievements. Girl was illustrious.

Soonyoung used to tape newspaper clippings of Minghao on her wall, back when Minghao was saving the world and Soonyoung was staring at the pen on her desk, trying to move it with her brain even when her teachers swore an EEG would show up flat. Minghao, pulling the elderly out of burning buildings. Pasted around the space of Soonyoung’s computer, until she dropped off the grid. Literally.

Dropped a mile from the sky, from point A to B, while the world watched on.

Soonyoung remembers watching Minghao through real-time coverage, falling straight to the earth. She fell in a spiral; her parachute couldn’t calibrate to the fall as she spiraled down, it discharged and she spun into it, wrapping the fabric around her neck, viciously choking her as she plummeted. The news footage showed her thin hands gripping the fabric around her head, desperately trying to rip it off. Class five telepath, most powerful of her class, and still her powers weren’t able to get her out of it.

The report never said how bad her injuries were and Minghao never talked about it, but Soonyoung’s been around long enough to hear bits of it in passing to reconstruct a picture herself, just like Minghao’s spine was reconstructed, broken in five different places. Her telepathy was no longer what it used to be.

The years after that, Minghao stopped believing in heroism.

Suho returns to discuss the Chanyeol case. They meet at PLEDIS’ main building where portraits of her most successful heroes are showcased on the walls, all except Minghao. A frighteningly large photo of Nana follows them down the hall and into a conference room.

“You’re all recovered now?” Suho says in lieu of hello. She places a thick folder on the table and folds her hands on top.

Soonyoung cracks her neck. “Just about. How’s the case going? You close to finding his employer?”

Suho sighs, drawing the silky length of her hair over her shoulder. “He’s not talking. The first hour, he wouldn’t stop combusting. We’re looking through his social media for anything helpful. As far as muscle goes, clearly Chanyeol was a shit pick so we’re looking for someone dumb.”

Soonyoung smiles. “Doesn’t narrow it down by much.”

Suho laughs. “No, it doesn’t. But I was hoping he said something to you.”

“Nothing. He mostly screamed at me as I ran.”

Suho’s phone rings. She glances down at it, then moves to get up. “Will you think about it while I take this call? Take a look at his file, just in case PLEDIS has any information we can use to cross connect.”

Soonyoung sifts through a thousand of Chanyeol’s Instagram posts. Chanyeol in Spain. Chanyeol in Macchu Picchu, Chanyeol in Moscow. In each photo he’s wearing Vetements.

The only recurring setting is an office. Soonyoung picks all the photos out and lines them up neatly. High ceilings, dark wood floors and light accents bringing the eye upward. A long, arched ceiling bisected with chandeliers. Chanyeol snaps a photo in front of the focal point of the office—there’s always one when it comes to the rich and powerful, except Chanyeol definitely doesn’t know it’s worth more than his entire being because he covers it with his body. It’s just a corner. Just a tenth of the actual thing. A checkered floor and a slice of a long blue-green dress.

She tries to find more of the painting, but the rest of his photos are all selfies taken in front of monuments. The Great Wall, Angkor Wat, the Taj Mahal. This son of a bitch.

Suho returns looking a lot more stressed. “You found his travel photos. We made a map of where he’s been the past year and cross-referenced it to crimes in the area. Nothing came up.”

Soonyoung hands over the photo with the painting in the background for Suho to examine. It’s a fucking shame 80% of it is Chanyeol’s dumb face. “That’s a missing Vermeer. The FBI’s been looking for it for thirty years. You think it’s real?”

“Might be, I’d have to do some digging.”

“If you can find out who bought the painting, I think you’d find your woman.”

Suho sighs. She takes the stack of photos Soonyoung organized for her. “Hopefully I can get Chanyeol to break before that.” They shake hands, Suho’s palm cool against her own, deceptively soft given her job. “As always,” she says, smiling, “it’s a pleasure.”

For the brief moment Seungchol is released from his office, they go for a walk. He buys her milk tea because even though she’s saved thousands of lives she’s still younger than him and he’ll never let her forget it. She takes them out to Han River and they sit on a bench, watching the wind ripple across the water.

“I’m tired,” Seungchol says, coffee between his knees. “I need a raise.”

“Tell the director SME’s trying to poach you.”

“Wait—how’d you know?”

Soonyoung raises her brows. “What, seriously?”

Seungchol shrugs, leaning back into the bench. “They say PLEDIS is projected to die out in the next ten years, and that’s being generous.”

Soonyoung cackles. “Too generous. PLEDIS isn’t gonna last till the end of this sentence. You gonna take it?”

“I don’t know, probably not. Jihoon can’t take over for me. His interpersonal skills are shit.”

“You know he led me straight into a wall one time because he didn’t want to talk to me?”

“It’s because he’s shy around women."

“Isn’t he, like, thirty?”

“Yeah,” Seungchol says to himself. “I’m firing him.”

They grin at each other. The sun sets low over the river, the water sparkling sharp into Soonyoung’s eyes. She squints against it.

“You should think about it,” she says, milk tea rotting her teeth. “I have loyalty too, but not toward companies. I’m loyal toward the people, first and foremost. I’d sign with the company that lets me save people the most. SME’s good for that, way better than PLEDIS.”

“If one day I’m confident PLEDIS can survive without me, I’ll leave.”

“It’s not your job. You continue giving them a crutch, they’ll keep using you as one.”

Seungchol is quiet, pensive. “I don’t mind. It’s for a good cause.”

Soonyoung looks out over the river. The breeze hits. They get taken advantage of because of good causes. “How’s the Baekhyun case.”

“The director isn’t interested. Baekhyun’s low priority. We can’t prove his connection to Kyungsoo without using Minghao’s evidence, but then he’ll start questioning where the evidence came from, and we don’t have operatives to pin it on.”

Soonyoung squeezes the plastic cup between her hands, a bank of boba settling at the bottom. “I have another way we can do it. I think Chanyeol’s boss has the Vermeer Kyungsoo originally gave to his supplier. One of them has to be a fake.”

“How can you be sure? There’s more than one fake Vermeer out there.”

“If I’m wrong, we don’t lose anything. We can keep working the director until he’ll let us pursue Baekhyun. If I’m right, the payoff’s worth it. All we have to do is circulate a fake Vermeer in the Chinese market.”

Seungchol whistles. “Sneaky. Are we gonna talk about the soup thing?”

Soonyoung chews anxiously on her straw. “What soup thing? You want soup?”

“No, you’re gonna get soup. With Minghao.”

“Oh. That.”

“What the hell was that?” Seungchol says, wringing his hands like a freak. “Oh my god, what was that?”

“It was nothing! And we didn’t drink soup together—I drank it alone.”

“Even worse!” he screeches. “Do you see how that’s somehow worse? She made it for you!”

Soonyoung goes all shifty-eyed.

“She’s trying to manipulate you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know her anymore,” Seungchol says, looking out onto the city they swore to protect. Want real estate advice? Purchase outside Seoul. “Whatever you thought she was capable of before isn’t the case now, and the same goes for me. We shouldn’t let the past cloud our judgement.”

“I know, man. You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

Seungchol finishes the last of his coffee. Crushes the cup in his fist. “It’s my job to worry about you. If not me, who else?”

“After a while,” Soonyoung says, “you just need to let me make my own decisions.”

Spring is ending. Dayu is getting busier as the weather warms, summer’s just about to break. Bugs emerge like a fucking plague.

They meet late in the afternoon when Dayu is near empty. Soonyoung walks the streets, the stores not yet open. Even Minghao’s restaurant is closed. The door’s unlocked. The waitress is gone, the lights are off, the dim afternoon light casting the restaurant in blue and gray.

Soonyoung feels—a little nervous honestly, even though technically they’re not alone. Seungchol’s listening in. But it feels like they’re alone. She feels it more and more as she walks deeper into the restaurant where Minghao waits. Instead of dinner, Minghao has tea and rose cakes. A Yunnan specialty. The outside is flakey and delicate, and the inside dense, packed with a fragrant rose filling.

“Sorry for pushing our meeting back so far,” she says, pushing a glazed dish forward like another apology.

“Are you busy?”

Minghao smiles. “I’m not up to anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

Soonyoung ignores her. “I’ve been busy. I saw the _Concert._ You know, two weeks ago with that asshole pyrokinetic. I think his boss has it, he took a selfie in front of it.”

“Did you bring the picture?”

“SME deleted his Instagram before I could get to it. What are the chances Baekhyun would sell the _Court_ twice? If Kyungsoo’s supplier is Chinese and he sold a fake in China and the real one in Korea, no one would know.”

“What’s your plan? If this is true.”

“It’ll take months for PLEDIS to do anything about Baekhyun, he’s low priority. Instead of relying on PLEDIS, we should circulate a fake Vermeer. If Baekhyun sold a fake to the Chinese, I gotta think Kyungsoo won’t be happy about it. He’ll take out Baekhyun and owe his supplier more than he’s worth. He’ll be ruined.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions. Who’s to say the Chinese got the fake one? Baekhyun could’ve made more than one fake.”

“You think he’s that dumb?”

“I think he’s reached levels of dumb that would surprise even you.”

“Are you—are you saying I’m dumb?”

Minghao throws her head back and laughs. It surprises Soonyoung so much that she sits up a little straighter. “I’m saying you’ve seen a lot of dumb criminals, but now I’m saying you’re dumb.”

Soonyoung flushes. “I like our chances. If it doesn’t work, we don’t lose anything.”

“Alright. Then let’s say everything goes according to your plan. What makes you think Kyungsoo won’t be able to pay off his debt?”

“His operation is a lot smaller than it looks, he can’t pay off a 100 billion won debt.”

“And who’s gonna paint this imitation?”

“You’re—you’re really fishing for compliments? Is now really a good time?”

Minghao grins, so obviously pleased. “We’ll try it your way. Have Seungchol circulate it, I trust him to make it legit. I’ll have it done in a week.”

“I think you’re overestimating yourself.”

“It’s a Vermeer,” Minghao says, arrogant as fuck. “It’s not gonna take long.” She lays a burner phone on the table, right between them at the halfway point. “For when the painting is done. Unless you feel like checking in on me every day.”

Soonyoung swipes up the phone, then feels stupid for it. She looks at the smooth surface of it in her fist. “Did you just manipulate me?”

“I would never.”

She says it without hesitation, without any hard feeling, that when Soonyoung looks up at her, one hand gripping either side of the teapot, middle finger on the right and thumb on the left, straining the tea without burning herself, she feels stupid.

“I read the articles about us after I left Seoul. They kept saying I manipulated you into falling in love with me.” Minghao’s face warps a little, just the slightest bit pissed. “People really don’t have boundaries.”

“They were just speculating.”

“And you believe them?”

“You ran me over. Why wouldn’t you use your powers on me?”

“You think you’re the only one that’s hurt? You betrayed me too. You’ve always been like this, you never think about how I feel. Did you ever think that I just didn’t want to be a hero? That it was killing me?”

“What was killing you? You’re lucky, Minghao!”

“My powers are a burden,” she hisses. “You chose to be a hero. I didn’t.”

She forces herself to keep it cool, to back off. “If you don’t want to be a hero, fine. I don’t care. But when you choose to be a villain, that’s when it’s my problem.”

Minghao scoffs. “Do I even rank? PLEDIS wants to chase me when there are worse criminals out there.”

“You’re still breaking the law no matter how justified you think it is."

It’s quiet in the restaurant, empty. She’s never been so aware of her own heartbeat, of the dead weight in her hands. If everything works out, they won’t meet like this anymore. Maybe they’ll end up fighting for real, and this time Soonyoung won’t be caught off guard.

“If that’s all, I’m leaving.”

Minghao says nothing, makes no gesture, only watches as Soonyoung teleports out.

They stopped understanding each other the more successful Soonyoung became. Gold medals, plaques, shit named in her honor, and during all this Minghao was silent. Didn’t give her the affirmation she wanted and wouldn’t go to any of the ceremonies, even when PLEDIS made it clear she was expected to attend.

It was their biggest fight. She came back from her award ceremony and lost it when she saw Minghao just reading on the couch, feet tucked beneath her. She laid in on Minghao without even taking off her fucking shoes. Followed Minghao through the apartment, heels loud on the floor, and said some of the nastiest shit she’ll ever say in her life. The whole time Minghao was silent.

When did it get this bad? During those last few days, she seriously felt violent. Like she wanted to explode all over the place.

The day’s slow. Seungchol phoned in earlier to tell her to stay home, so she tries to live her day as a normal person. Cleans her apartment, buys groceries she knows she’ll find unmoved and uneaten in her fridge a month from now, when she has one of these days again. It’s lonely without Junhui. Changsha’s Narcotics Unit won’t let her go; they need her too much and her mission extends. There’s nothing to do, nobody to spar with, nobody to hang out with.

She doesn’t feel lonely often. Doesn’t have the time or energy—maybe it’s part of a bigger ploy. If PLEDIS keeps them busy, they won’t have the chance to feel lonely. The more variables you can eliminate, the more predictable the outcome will be. Heroes need to be predictable. Not like Minghao, who was unpredictable from start to finish.

She tries to shake the discontentment and takes a nap on the couch. Wakes up two hours later disoriented and hot, the sun fully set, the ghostly glow of the clock telling her it’s already seven. The loneliness didn’t go away as she slept; it merely doubled in size, pushed through her. She drags herself off the couch and to the kitchen. She forces herself to eat even though lately she hasn’t had much of an appetite. It’s all about necessity now. She doesn’t sleep or eat more than she has to.

She eats dinner at the stove. Cracks a raw egg over rice and eats it with _doenjang-jjigae._ Eats with the steam on her face, warming her eyeballs. It’s unclear to her why she feels so bad today. She tries to sweat it out. Whatever bad feeling she has can always be solved by heat, by pain.

Her phone rings and breaks the peace. For a second, she thinks it’s Seungchol calling her in and her chest balloons at the chance of a mission, but it’s just the burner. Vibrating on the countertop, ringing before the week is even up. Minghao making good on her word.

Knowing Minghao, she probably timed it just so, thinking Soonyoung finished dinner and was on her second cup of tea. The phone rings through her apartment, cheerful and persistent as she reaches for it.

“Hey.”

The line rustles, full of static, before it cuts away and Minghao’s voice comes clean and clear through the speakers. “Painting’s ready. Can you pick it up tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Over the phone, Minghao’s hesitation just sounds like a pause. “I’m sorry.”

Soonyoung lays down the spoon and steps away from the stove. Leans against the counter. “For what?”

“What happened outside the museum.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Another pause. “You say that a lot, Soonyoung. But I think about it all the time. Seeing you at the base of the steps outside the museum. Two years of seeing you only on TV and you were finally in front of me.”

“And your reaction was to run me over?”

“I was so angry and lonely. I thought about you every day. I wanted you to understand where I was coming from—you were the only person I trusted, and when you reported me, you became a different person in my mind.” Each word sounds like Minghao’s in pain. Forcing it out. “I wanted to hurt you when I saw you. I regret it.”

Soonyoung presses a hand to her eyes. She feels something burst out of her. Peel out of her. “You never regret anything.”

Minghao laughs a little into the phone. Just a breath. “Not true.”

“When did I stop understanding you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, heart high and tight in her throat. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“I think you’re lying when you say you don’t understand me. You do and you choose to fight it. Accepting that you understand the way I see things is a concession for you. If you understand, will you eventually see things my way? But in the past, you just really didn’t understand. You do now after being a hero for so long.”

Soonyoung is silent. She just holds the phone tight in her hand, listens to the cars pass on Minghao’s side of the line.

“Am I wrong?”

“Would you have turned to theft if I hadn’t reported you?”

“You didn’t turn me into a villain, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But I did,” Soonyoung hisses. “If I—if I had just been more reasonable, if I just fucking talked to you, we wouldn’t be like this now. You’d still be on my side. We’d still be—fucking together, Minghao. Look at what I did to you.”

“You didn’t do anything to me. I chose this. I’m greedy, Soonyoung. What’s the point of living if I can’t have what I want?”

Soonyoung runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “I wish I believed you.”

“Then, it’s fine to have regrets. What’s life without a couple.”

“What else do you regret?”

Minghao laughs, loud this time. “Are you trying to get something out of me? Just cause you’re sad doesn’t mean I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“I just—wanna know.”

“You already know them. I regret running you over and I regret being a hero, in that order. The big two. What are yours?”

“I have to go.”

“What?” Minghao protests. “You get what you want from me and you leave? That’s cold.”

Soonyoung smiles. It feels weird. “I wish I treated you better. I didn’t treat you like what you meant to me. My most precious thing.”

Minghao just falls silent. She knows she’s still on the line—she can hear the background noise just fine. Through it all, a car door opening. “Hey. Now I really have to go.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says, feeling a little stupid for telling her something like that.

Minghao doesn’t hang up. Just hangs on even though there’s a car she needs to get into. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she croaks.

“Goodnight.”

She hangs up and lays her head into her hands, feeling like she just dragged herself over a kilometer of burning coal. She has no idea what that conversation tells her about Minghao. What’s the fucking point of knowing all this now? What use is this knowledge to her? All it makes her feel, all it elicits from her, is pain.

When she returns to Dayu the next day for the painting, she leaves her earpiece with Seungchol. Instead of the usual spot, she’s led through the restaurant, into the kitchen, and out the back where the Dayu river flows. There’s an inn nearby, completely empty. She’s told to wait out front.

Minghao comes out moments later, opening the door. She smiles. Her office is plain but nice, still lacking that characteristic Minghao gaudiness. It gives her away immediately. She isn’t doing business here exclusively—her main office is somewhere else. All her nice shit, her centerpieces, the heavy rosewood furniture Soonyoung knows she has is someplace else.

What’s in her office here, in the center of Dayu, is her forgery hung up behind her desk with three low lights shining upon it.

Soonyoung walks in, mouth hanging. “You made this? It looks like the real thing.” She can see Minghao smile from her periphery. She focuses harder on the painting, walking behind Minghao’s table without invitation. “Think it’ll convince Kyungsoo’s man?”

“Absolutely. Whoever looks at this will think it’s the real one, especially since Baekhyun likes to hire finger painters to restore his work.”

Soonyoung sputters, trying to hide a laugh. “Is that true?”

“Van Gogh’s _Poppy Flowers_ will never be the same again.”

“Do you even care? You don’t like European art. You should try stealing from someone else.”

The light’s low, in Minghao’s office. She feels, acutely, Minghao’s presence like an arm around her. She can feel herself warming up as Minghao looks up at the forgery, the light painting her in a pensive fashion. Michelangelo levels of composition.

Minghao’s face goes soft as Soonyoung’s stomach tightens. She says, eyes up, “I find it hard to steal from anyone else.”

Minghao carefully takes the painting down and lays it on the table, removing the canvas from the frame. She feels itchy just watching her. Some things you shouldn’t pick at. Minghao rolls up the thick canvas, the sound of it sharp against the palm of her hand, as she slips it into a tube. She hands it to Soonyoung, tightening her grip when she tries to take it.

They pause in that moment, holding eye contact. Then—Minghao smiles.

An asteroid punctures the Earth’s atmosphere and lands right in the middle of Jongno—on a Tuesday, no less. Worst day of the week followed by fire, ash, debris, and a woman opening up the ground she lands on. She tears open the giant maw of the earth and swallows everything within a twenty-kilometer radius. Deeper into Jongno, she starts to play. It’s terrifying, seeing the earth rise 40 meters up then down, crashing like a fucking wave.

Everybody’s on collateral damage. Soonyoung’s assigned to the jewelry market. Gold and silver line the street, glistening right before the moment everything is buried. She gets as many people out as she can, comes back for survivors.

At the end, when someone better and stronger than her defeats Elysion, Soonyoung stands over a completely leveled district, a now empty lot, where there were a hundred people waiting for rescue. She walks slowly, not understanding the emptiness. Choosing to believe she made a mistake and teleported to the wrong place before understanding everyone died.

Rarely is there a hero so powerful, so diabolical, they’d kill thousands of people no sweat. She’s only fought two. Chen, and Elysion. The first time, she tracked Chen deep into the city, knowing he was heading toward Minghao and fearing this was gonna be the thing that would finally kill her.

In the middle of search efforts, Suho shows up on KBS to give her condolences. It was her who took down Elysion, meanwhile half a city away Soonyoung dealt with a rising death count. She looks exhausted, nauseous even, the camera flashes making her seem paler than she really is. She tells the reporters they’ve been searching for survivors for the past 48 hours. As of now, there are none.

Their 48 hours are up. Anybody who could’ve survived is dead by now. On the forty-ninth hour, they’re forced to quit the search and return to assigned duty. Soonyoung teleports back home, right into her shower, and showers in water so hot the entire bathroom fogs over. She doesn’t even have the energy to stand up, can’t even wash herself. Just sits still beneath the water, hair coming down over her eyes. A blackhole level of emptiness coming over her.

She doesn’t think she isn’t good enough. She used to when she was younger, but not anymore. She has to believe in herself if she’s going to be a hero and she does, but sometimes.

There’s no one to tell it to. Not Seungchol, who is everybody’s biggest hype man. Dude’s all about heroism; he doesn’t understand there are days when she doesn’t want to be a hero anymore. Days where she feels like she can’t even get out of bed. She barely gets her hair dry before she hits the bed.

It’s there she realizes, suddenly, what Minghao was talking about. It wasn’t like every mission was a win for her. Win or lose, people died regardless. Didn’t matter how good you were. And the guilt?

She sits up. Grabs the burner out of her nightstand and turns it on, going to the only person listed in the contacts. She holds the phone in both her hands and feels her nerves come up and out of her. She thinks of Jongno. Of the earth humming with residual energy, the screams, and hits call. The line rings on and on. Just as the anticipation and dread dies in her chest, on that last ring, it goes through.

Silence, like Minghao doesn’t know who’s calling. In the absolute darkness of her bedroom, the sound of her close to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Soonyoung croaks, phone tight in her hand. If this were a landline, she’d be curling the cord around her fingers. Around her neck. “I wanted to talk to you.”

A pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember—” she squeezes her eyes shut, body strung tight, tense, ready to blow, “remember when you broke Wonwoo’s arm?”

It takes a moment for Minghao to compute. Soonyoung can hear her shuffling papers. “He was too cocky, he had to learn.”

“I thought he deserved it because he kept bullying me all summer.”

“Ah.” A page flips, soft in Soonyoung’s ear. “That was because he liked you. So I broke his arm.”

Soonyoung opens her eyes wide. “What?”

Minghao’s grin is apparent in her voice. “Just kidding. He kept bragging about having never broken a bone, maybe because he thought it’d impress you. I had to teach him what it felt like. And now he has nothing to brag about.”

Soonyoung feels like her heart is expanding into her throat, engulfing all her organs. “Is it bad that I was impressed when you broke his arm?”

Minghao laughs. “Yes. Should I do it again?”

She tries not to laugh, she really does, because there’s a part of her brain, the sensible part, that’s telling her this is fucked up. You shouldn’t be talking about breaking your coworker’s arm with your mortal enemy.

“Maybe not,” Soonyoung says. “He’s a dad now.”

“Jesus, he really let himself go.”

Alright, that does it. Soonyoung laughs suddenly, sharp and uncontained, that it surprises even herself.

“I’m kidding,” Minghao amends sweetly, “good for him. Out of all of us, I thought he’d be a parent.”

“We all thought it was gonna be you, actually.”

Minghao hums. “Good thing we never made any bets.”

“Why not?”

“I decided not to have kids, even before I left PLEDIS. And now that I steal for a living, it’s even more improbable. I don’t want them to see me and think it’s okay to be a villain. I want them to grow up with a normal life without powers. I want them to have easy lives, to be whatever they want to be. Obviously, that’s not possible with me, so. No kids.”

“You could still do it,” Soonyoung says. “I don’t know. You could.”

“It’s okay for Wonwoo, his powers are one in a million.”

She can imagine Minghao in her mind, clear and perfect, looking at her. And in her eye, sorrow.

“Sometimes I’d indulge myself though,” Minghao says quietly, like she’s telling Soonyoung a secret, “and think about what our kids would be like.”

Soonyoung’s heart pounds. “My powers, for sure.”

“My hair.”

“Shit yeah, your hair.”

“Your weird fucking double-joints.”

“It’s not weird! 20% of the population has it.”

“Right, now I have two reasons why I can’t have kids. My powers, and you’re double-jointed.”

“You forgot the third reason. You’re _mean_.”

“Sorry,” Minghao says, not sorry at all. “I’ll be nicer to you.”

Soonyoung tries not to smile, puckering her mouth. “Can I, uh. Be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“It feels like everyone moved on but me. Everyone at PLEDIS. You. I thought I knew what I was doing, but not anymore. I finally understand what you were talking about, when you said being a hero was killing you.” Tears come down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Minghao’s silent over the phone as Soonyoung cries. “Where are you right now?”

Soonyoung wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. “At home.”

“Can you meet me?”

Her heart’s about to burst like a fucking cyst. It’s over for her. “Where?”

“The Mandarin Oriental, Guangzhou.”

Soonyoung grips the phone. Knows, if she goes, this will be it.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

She’s there in ten minutes, nearly doesn’t go but the thought of being alone in her apartment pushes her out the door, and to Guangzhou. Up to the elevator of the Mandarin suite, the doors sliding open for her, revealing Minghao to her. She must’ve come down to meet her. Soonyoung hesitates at the sight of her.

Minghao doesn’t say a word. Just waits for Soonyoung to make a decision—do or die. You in or you out?

She steps in. The light comes through the glass walls of the elevator, Guangzhou lighting up all around them, painting Minghao in purple, red, blue, in the changing lights of the city fog. Soonyoung’s heart bottoms out the higher they go. She tries to look straight at Minghao who’s unphased by how fast and high they’re going.

Minghao smiles. She tilts her head a little, still watching her.

Soonyoung’s synapses fire rapidly, making dumbass connections wherever it can. Junhui once told her there were no sights to see in Guangzhou. Ever wonder why pop sensation Kris Wu doesn’t set up base in his hometown? That’s why. But maybe Junhui was wrong about the abysmal sights in Guangzhou.

Soonyoung steps out of the elevator first, not even trying to pretend she can handle heights. Minghao walks ahead of her. Easy long strides, back straight as ever. She holds the door open for Soonyoung. Shuts it behind her.

Tea’s prepared already in the living room. Half the coffee table is covered in neat stacks of paper, and the other half is a tea tray, the kettle still steaming. Minghao reaches over and pours the tea as Soonyoung takes a seat across from her. The sight of the green tea coming clean and clear from the spout almost moves her to fucking tears.

“What’s wrong, Soonyoung?”

“Nothing.” She hates herself. She wipes her tears away. “Just. There was a villain I couldn’t stop. A lot of people died.”

“You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I know. I know. It’s—I’m supposed to be a hero. I’m not supposed to feel weak.”

Minghao is soft, gentle. “You’re not immune to feeling bad or inadequate. You’re still human no matter how it feels sometimes.”

Tears bubble rapidly in her eyes. She sniffles. Minghao reaches over and lays a gentle hand upon her knee, just like she used to do when Soonyoung was upset. “Did you know I thought of you very highly? Back when I was training your class, I liked you the best.”

Soonyoung laughs miserably. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“I thought that if anyone was meant to be a hero, it was you. Your ability is only a small factor. What matters is your resolve, your perseverance. Being a hero isn’t something just anyone with powers can do.”

Soonyoung’s hand comes over Minghao’s. She looks at their hands clasped together, Minghao’s fat fucking rings, and feels a little better.

“And if you don’t want to do this anymore, it’s fine to not want to sacrifice yourself like this anymore.”

She tries not to cry. She really does, holding Minghao’s hand tight. But dams don’t work if the wave is 40 meters tall. “Fuck,” she hisses, the pressure coming out of her so fast she can barely breathe. “Fuck.”

Minghao just holds her hand, letting her cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in celebration of 1+ year writing for soonhao.


	2. Chapter 2

Business goes on, as usual. After what happened in Jongno, there’s a miraculous period of peace. Everyone who was assigned to Jongno goes through wellness reports, filing in and out of Wonwoo’s office like zombies, then back to their desks to file paperwork.

Junhui phones in from Changsha. Seungchol puts her on speaker. Her voice is even, steady, fills up the room like she’s right there with them.

“Everyone okay?”

“None of us got injured,” Seungchol says. Code for: massive civilian deaths.

“I should’ve been there.”

They all struggle with guilt. PLEDIS regularly holds workshops to deal with it, mainly because they don’t want their assets to figure out the only cure to guilt. Indifference is the only thing capable of saving you.

Soonyoung leaves the room as Seungchol comforts her. She goes out to the end of the hallway where there’s an eave facing the city, the sun setting the sky ablaze. She sits there for a long time before Seungchol comes out.

Soonyoung sniffs. The AC’s up too high, the tips of her fingers go numb. “How’s Junhui?”

Seungchol is a little quiet, the way he gets whenever he’s considering his options. Picking and choosing what he wants to tell her. “She just heard about Jongno today.”

From their building, they can see the giant hole where a block of faraway skyscrapers used to stand. She feels it like the hole in her own heart. “How do you do it? You’re always so cool.”

“It’s hard,” Seungchol says. “It’s also not the same. Most days, I'm not responsible for saving civilian lives. Ultimately, that's on heroes.”

“You’re my hero.”

He smiles. “You’re the only one I really save, and you’re hard to kill.”

She turns to look at him. The sunset warms the side of his face, turning him soft. For the first time since the start of their partnership, she wonders if she can trust him. She wants to tell him her feelings have changed. Not suddenly, gradually. All those nights she couldn’t sleep because she wished she could be stronger and luckier so that she wouldn’t have to feel so bad when people died.

This is how Minghao felt all those years ago. Alone and wanting to trust someone.

And when she did?

You know how it goes.

Not even a week later, Soonyoung’s back in Guangzhou, bearing gifts of red ginseng. She waits for Minghao in the same suite, in the same heat, watching Guangzhou Tower change colors by the Pearl River. The room lock beeps behind her. She turns around, watching the door open and Minghao come in, a long stretch of red in the darkness of the foyer.

Over the phone, she’d been distant. It surprised Soonyoung at first, who thought so much of Minghao comforting her that night, so much that she believed their relationship had been restored. Minghao’s response nearly gave her cold feet. Monosyllabic. A lot has changed over the years but not this. Minghao still shuts down when something’s on her mind. She remembers it with so much clarity, because toward the end Minghao was no longer open to her.

She must’ve come from someplace nice just now. Her dress is long to the ground, accentuating the pinch of her upper waist. When she walks, the dress parts over her leg.

Soonyoung straightens up. “Go somewhere nice?”

“No. All I do is work these days.” Minghao looks tired. She takes her hair down, holding the pins between her teeth.

The red bag hangs uselessly between her hands as she tries to think of a way to diffuse whatever Minghao’s got going in her head. “I, uh. Got you something. For taking care of me.”

Minghao takes a seat. Arm over the couch, legs spread, dress pooling between her legs. Soonyoung’s hands sweat around the rope handle. She holds her hand out, the gold bangle hanging loose on her wrist catching the light. Soonyoung stays put. Minghao lays her hand down.

“I was happy when you called me, but why did you?”

Soonyoung’s mind blanks. She used to wonder how different her life would be if she were just better at talking. She’s slow on the uptake, not like Minghao who’s crazy smart in intelligence and in pain, smarts like the crack of the whip.

Minghao continues: “I know why I comforted you. I can even guess why you came to me, but I want to hear it from you. What do you expect from me, Soonyoung?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you risked your career just to see me. To bring me a gift. And you’re saying you don’t have any expectations of me.”

Soonyoung feels dumb, just standing here, being watched, holding this stupid fucking bag. Too many of their conversations ended in a fight just like this. Minghao enigmatic as fuck and herself dumb as fuck. But when she really thinks about it, digs deep into it, into her psyche, the black box of her memory, a part of her always knew. Whatever she doesn’t acknowledge cannot possibly be true. In truth, she’s selfish and a coward.

Minghao keeps pushing. “I spent eight years rebuilding myself. My powers, my career, my relationships. Eight years to find a new love. How do you think it went?”

“Well, I’d assume,” Soonyoung croaks, mouth unbelievably dry.

Between them, the darkness changes colors. Guangzhou is under a constant fog. Reflective, at night, throwing back the colors of electronic billboards, signs, Guangzhou Tower herself. She turns hues of blue, sending color twisting across the floor, up Minghao’s legs, her torso. Her face.

Minghao smiles, bitter. “You’re wrong.”

Everything suddenly comes together. An epiphany momentarily blanking all else from Soonyoung’s mind.

Her heart so fast she feels lightheaded. As though Minghao is choking her without even laying a hand on her. “I didn’t think about your feelings.”

“You were distressed. You wanted to see someone who you thought could understand you. I don’t blame you for that.” Finally, Minghao shows some emotion. Pain. “But I’m not comforting you a second time. Leave if you’re not planning to stay.”

Whatever she does next, her fate is sealed. She thinks about her own life. Everyone moved on but her. Her coworkers quit for something more stable, something that wouldn’t run the risk of death, got married and had kids. Not her. She never changed her mind about justice and heroism, consequently sacrificed herself to it. She hasn’t had a life outside her job for a long time, no love, no desire. No yearning.

The room turns green. Patterns turn all around, like a kaleidoscope shifting. She crosses the floor. Minghao watches as she comes over, the room fading into yellow. Orange, hand on Minghao’s face. And then, complete darkness.

She holds Minghao’s face, bringing their foreheads together. Minghao is quick to reciprocate, gently holding Soonyoung’s wrist. Her hand is big, like she remembers.

Next thing she knows, she’s settling into Minghao’s lap and pushing back her hair with both hands, gathering all of it into her hands, nails scratching her scalp. Minghao rests her head in Soonyoung’s palm and lets her do what she wants. She combs her hair back with her fingers until it’s neat in her hand, thick in her palm, smooth like a snake. Holds her hair as Minghao holds her waist.

Soonyoung says nothing. Just looks down on her, heartrate increasing. Anticipation choking her. Minghao’s eyes big and glossy in the dark, waiting. You, come to me.

Minghao’s mouth is soft and warm against her own. A little dry. Soonyoung kisses the dryness away. They kiss slowly, easily, becoming reacquainted. Kissing Minghao is familiar, makes her heart ache to know this hasn’t changed. Minghao scratches the short hair at the nape of her neck, licks into her mouth as she drags her nails slow across Soonyoung’s neck.

She strokes Minghao’s cheekbone and revels in the sight of her up close. Her perfect nose, her mouth, her eyes. Kisses her slow, over and over again. Minghao’s eyelashes tickle her cheek, a shy pleasure blooming within Soonyoung’s belly.

They sit together on the couch and spend the night talking, like they used to. Soonyoung rests her feet in Minghao’s lap. Minghao still feels very much the same. After they started dating for a while, the novelty of Minghao’s attention, her intense focus, wore away. It’s back at full force. Makes her a little shy.

“How are your parents?”

Minghao smiles. “I always liked that about you. You always ask how my family is doing.”

Soonyoung flushes a little.

“Is it really something to blush about?”

“Shut up!” Soonyoung covers her face, eyes peeking through her fingers. “Forget I asked. I don’t care about your parents.”

Minghao keeps on laughing. “They’re fine—they keep asking me about grandchildren though.”

“God, mine too.”

“Did you ever come out to them?”

Soonyoung holds a pillow to her chest, scandalized. “Never. Did you?”

Minghao shrugs. “Yeah, eventually. They ignored it; they keep trying to set me up.”

Soonyoung grins. “Trying to get somebody you can push around, huh?”

Minghao shoves her over with her foot. Soonyoung humors her, falls over dramatically. Snaps back up like rubber. “When I told them I might adopt, they hit up all the matchmakers from Anshan to Guangzhou. You don’t wanna see my WeChat.”

Soonyoung suddenly remembers speaking with her parents years ago, back when she and Minghao were still together but spending the new year in separate countries. She brought up adoption and her parents combusted, saying adoption wasn’t the way they did things. She hasn’t talked about it since.

“A couple years back, I thought about coming out. When romance was still relevant to me. But, uh. I don’t know. Eventually love wasn’t a possibility for me anymore, and I was relieved that at least I wouldn’t have to tell my parents.”

Minghao holds her hand. Soonyoung’s got nowhere else to look but forward, into her eyes.

She blurts, “Not that that’s a bad thing. I just—I don’t know. Having romantic love isn’t a big deal. I don’t really care about it you know?”

“I do,” Minghao says softly, folding her hands over Soonyoung’s, warm and soft against her rough hands.

“Do you ever, uh, regret it?”

Minghao smiles. “All the time, for the same reason you were relieved. Maybe it’s wrong of me to feel this way but it’s not for a lack of trying. I don’t believe in soulmates. There’s any number of people in this world I could be happy with. And yet.”

Soonyoung swallows. “And yet?”

“I didn’t feel anything for anyone after you.”

Soonyoung says, out of fucking nowhere, like it might ease the burn of this new knowledge: “We could’ve adopted, fuck it. We could’ve done it our way. I don’t fucking know, we could’ve genetically spliced a baby.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You could make it happen. Put that grand heist money to use.”

Minghao laughs, bright and sharp, happiest she’s ever heard her. “So, we’ll sink my money into gametes. You’re okay with that.”

“What better way to spend money?”

“I don’t know. Charity?”

“No. Grand heist baby.”

Minghao grins at her. “You’re funny. But when you’re lying awake at night wondering what I’m really up to, don’t worry. I donate.” 

The work never ends, that much doesn’t change.

It’s harder for Soonyoung since she can teleport anywhere. The quiet after Jongno lasts for all of two days before she’s back at the entire country’s disposal, obligated to kick ass coast-to-coast. One second she’s in Gwangju doing a press conference on the merits of the psi scale, and the next she’s in Jecheon diving off a skyrise after Silk. Two fucking skyrises in all of Jecehon and the Juggernaut just had to pick one of them. Put Korea on the map and suddenly everyone wants a piece of her.

All in all, not a bad day. She caught Silk and defeated the Juggernaut.

Silk tells her, as they return to SHIELD's headquarters and watch Juggernaut’s interrogation on the right side of a two-way mirror, that New York’s beloved Spiderman lost his girl last week.

Kidnapped by his archnemesis, thrown off Brooklyn Bridge, and there was nothing to be said or done afterward. Spiderman couldn’t swing down fast enough so he shot a web, and consequently the whiplash snapped her neck. No way around it, she either died by water or Newton’s third law.

If she really thinks about it, it’s no surprise. Heroes never get what they want. She’d be more surprised if Gwen made it out alive—the hero saves the day _and_ gets the girl? No goddamn way. To gain something, you must lose something.

She wonders how Spiderman feels. Guilt. Regret. A hatred like no other. Is being a hero really worth it? You save so many lives at the cost of your own.

She feels heavy as she returns to PLEDIS, dragging herself up the stairs. Going straight to Seungchol’s office. Opening the door and falling face-first into his couch, exhausted. He spins around in his chair. From over his shoulder, she can see the staircase security camera feed open on his desktop.

“How’s Silk?”

Soonyoung knows exactly what Seungchol will say even before she tells him. The eternal optimist. The only way out is forward, some shit like that.

“She’s alright. She told me Spiderman’s girlfriend died last week.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Kidnapped and thrown off Brooklyn Bridge by one of his enemies.”

Seungchol lays his headphones down on the table. “Are you okay?”

She forces herself up onto her elbows, the weight of her body bowing, sinking at the middle. “I keep thinking. We sacrifice so much. Is what we get in return worth it? Does it balance out in the end?”

“It has to be done,” Seungchol tells her. “Without this sacrifice, the world is a worse place.”

“That’s obligation. Is obligation really a good reason to be a hero?”

“It is. We live in this society. We all have an obligation to maintain it.”

“But the result is a bitter hero.”

“A bitter hero still gets the job done. Just look at Captain America.”

Maybe Seungchol doesn’t know, but the only thing holding Captain America down is despair. You see him on the news, tall and big in his tactical gear, and you can’t even imagine how bad it gets for him at night. When he thinks of his best friend, plummeting to his death in the snow pass, the last of his worldly attachments, do you think he wakes up liking his job? His job is the only thing left of him. He might say he’d give up everything twice over if it meant saving the world, but she knows he’s lying. At this age, knowing what he knows, knowing the future is only a mile of black ice lying in wait, he can only be lying.

She wants answers, is all. She wants to know when she started feeling so differently about heroism. When she started resenting Seungchol for how he saw the world, so simple and wrong, provided to him behind a screen. He doesn’t fight like she does, hasn’t seen death and destruction like she has, the aftermath of Haeundae clogging her nose and throat, the smell of burning flesh choking her.

“We all get moments where our conviction falters,” Seungchol says thoughtfully. “We’re heroes so we can’t afford to do it much. When we hesitate, people die. When we start feeling bad, we need to give it some time. Most of life is just waiting, so be patient.”

Soonyoung says nothing to him. Just presses her face into the pillow, exhaustion pinning her down.

Turns out, Seungchol is right. Patience is a virtue. Wait long enough and what you want will come to you. Baekhyun shows up dead and Kyungsoo, gone.

Minghao tells her this over the phone, when she’s exhausted and leaning against the kitchen counters, watching the glow of the microwave in the dark. It’s hot as hell. Soonyoung keeps the light off, fans herself with a folded magazine, phone sticking to her ear and shoulder.

“You were right, it was a fake. We think Kyungsoo killed him before going into hiding. There was no one to succeed him and shoulder his debt, so his organization disbanded overnight.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Minghao says, triumphant. “Shit.”

“What now?”

“Now we don’t have a reason to see each other anymore.”

The monotonous hum of the microwave surrounds her. Baekhyun’s dead and she helped kill him. She feels dizzy, not because of Baekhyun’s death or the implications of it, but because she can’t stand the thought of losing Minghao again.

“Is this your idea of flirting?” Soonyoung says, a little panicked.

Minghao laughs. “I’m fucking with you.”

“No,” Soonyoung says slowly, realization catching up to her. “You lost your game. Xu Minghao has no game! I can’t believe it.”

“I haven’t dated anyone in a long time.”

“Oh. Are we?”

“Dating? No. Relationships don’t start back at the beginning when you jump back into them.”

Soonyoung’s stomach leaps. The microwave chimes cheerfully, filling in the growing silence before she works up the nerve to break it. “Can I come see you?”

Minghao’s voice is cool, calm, a reprieve in this scorching heat. “Of course.”

Even though Baekhyun is dead, Minghao is still in China. Still shacked up in Guangzhou. They meet each other outside a street food vendor where the tables and stools are short, and the ceilings are low.

Minghao’s dressed down today. No jewelry, no makeup, only a T-shirt and a little redness around her nose and purple beneath the eye. She looks a little warmer. Kinder. The way Soonyoung remembers. Her heart starts working overtime, pumping too much blood to her head and not enough everywhere else.

“Hey,” Minghao says, turning to her the moment she teleports in. “Hungry?”

Soonyoung looks to the small store behind her and feels a new hunger in her stomach. “Yeah.”

Minghao takes them in. There’s only five tables in the entire store; they sit nestled beneath the stairs and Minghao orders for them. She wipes the chopsticks and cups clean with tea. It’s only them tonight. Sitting here, the intimacy between them so thick, it feels like they’re the last two people on earth.

“How was your day?"

She ducks her head a little. “It was okay. I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“You? Thinking?” Minghao smirks. “Hard to believe.”

“You _dick,_” Soonyoung smacks the back of her hand with chopsticks. Minghao hisses and tries to wrestle the chopsticks out of her hands. She can’t help but laugh, turning in on herself.

“Ugh, whatever.” Minghao sits back down, settles for primly drinking tea. “You’re such a kid.”

The food comes. Plates of steaming beef tripe and white radish. She didn’t miss this part about Minghao. Who the fuck eats beef tripe in the summer? She feels hot just thinking about it, like just through the simple act of looking at it manifests a layer of sweat upon her skin. Minghao moves the beef tripe toward her to make room for the other dishes and what Soonyoung came here for, the ginger milk pudding.

The overhead lights cast a warm glow on the food, on Minghao. The smell of food and Minghao’s conditioner intensified by the heat. Guangzhou is wet like moving slowly underwater.

“What are you thinking of?” Minghao asks gently. Her presence soft, edging her on.

“I don’t want to feel guilty all the damn time anymore,” Soonyoung says hollowly, picking up her chopsticks to offset the severity of her words.

Minghao raises her brows. “That’s significant.”

“I know.” Soonyoung places tripe and radish onto Minghao’s plate. She has one herself. It’s so delicious it gives her chills. Food is always delicious with Minghao. It got to a point where she began associating delicious food with Minghao. After she left PLEDIS, food lost all taste. “You don’t feel guilty anymore?”

“I haven’t felt guilt in a long time. I changed so much that I felt responsible for saving lives but didn’t feel guilty when I failed. Guilt makes the hero. It’s what’s left after ambition dies. PLEDIS can deny it all they want, but that’s what they’re screening you for after something big happens.”

Soonyoung places a hand to her temple. “But I’m not a regular person—what I need shouldn’t matter.”

“I wish I could tell you you’re wrong but that’s exactly how I felt too, and you know what happened to me in the end.”

“Are you happy?”

Minghao hesitates. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, mouth dry.

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s not worth living so selflessly.”

She looks down. Jokes, “Are you maybe a bad influence?”

The sound of the fan whirs. Someone washes dishes in the kitchen, the lady up front melting against the counter, and Minghao telling her, “There’s no shame in wanting more for yourself.”

Herself saying in return, “I feel ashamed for believing PLEDIS in the first place. The idea of sacrificing yourself entirely for the greater good, that’s not something a regular person can handle. But get them young enough and you can make them believe anything.”

Minghao’s hand stills. She looks up at Soonyoung, who can’t seem to look her in the eye. “How long have you been thinking like this?”

“A long time. I just—tried not to dwell on it, you know. I thought if I never confronted it, it wouldn’t be true.” A smile winces across her face. “Tried that on you too. Didn’t work.”

“It didn’t feel like denial at the time, did it?”

“No.”

“You’re here now,” Minghao says, leaning in close, not touching her but Soonyoung feeling that she is all on her, all-encompassing, a comforting weight to anchor her down. “You know the truth and you know how you feel. That’s a good first step.”

“You think so?”

Minghao smiles at her. “I do. Now eat, you need the nutrition.”

The place isn’t far from where Minghao’s staying. This late, the heat turns tolerable. The concrete and brick bleeds residual heat. They walk in silence. Minghao walking up front where the sidewalk turns narrow and bikers chime their bells, swerving around them.

Soonyoung watches her walk. Her ponytail hangs long down her back, swinging girlishly. They stop at a red light and wait to cross the street. A banner of Kris Wu advertising tea on the side of a bus passes by, reflecting their stretched faces in the dark passenger mirrors.

“I have a request.” Minghao turns to her, eyes low. “Please don’t be with me hoping that I’ll change for you.”

Soonyoung feels electrocuted, breathless. “I want you as you are.”

Minghao holds out her hand. Soonyoung looks at it. The miraculous shine of her rings moves Soonyoung to a stupid degree, her heart swelling. Bursting, when she lays her hand into Minghao’s, her fingers coming up around her hand, bringing her forward.

They hold hands all the way back to the hotel, impatience thrumming beneath her skin. Why is it so sexy—it’s crazy how sexy it is, that Soonyoung would’ve jumped into bed with Minghao weeks ago, but Minghao’s just letting her now after telling her she will not, cannot change. No misunderstanding. The two of them understanding exactly where they stand.

The second they’re back, Soonyoung walks Minghao back up against the wall. She loves this. Always has. Minghao’s so fucking strong, so damn ruthless, she could incapacitate her in a millisecond. She lets Soonyoung crowd her against the wall anyway. In fact, encourages it, hand cupping the back of Soonyoung’s neck. Leading her in.

Her mind blanks out. Minghao’s warm all over, pliant. Mouth open against hers. Her hand goes from the back of her neck to her waist, holding her there. This close, she feels all of Minghao against her. Her eyelashes, her breath. She edges in closer, runs Minghao up the wall, and slides her tongue into Minghao’s mouth. Feels—Minghao’s hand go tight on her waist. She gasps a little, and Minghao adds nail to it. Curls her fingers into the soft give of her skin.

God. Soonyoung bites her lip. Presses their foreheads together just to catch her breath before Minghao leads her across the suite to the bedroom, Soonyoung bumping into every corner they turn, hissing, “Why’d you get such a big fucking suite?”

“What?” Minghao smirks, rounding on her. “You’re not impressed?”

Soonyoung places a hand on her chest, lightly pushing her back. “You think I’m with you for the money, huh?” She walks Minghao back until she hits the bed, gets her down onto her back. Climbs over her as she pulls her shirt up and off.

Minghao just sits back and enjoys the view. “If you were with me for the money, I’d get you a better bra.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Soonyoung undoes her bra and slides it off her arms, showing where the elastic bit into her skin and left red marks. Minghao smooths her fingers across the lines, like she’s trying to soothe her.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I’m used to it.”

Minghao hums. Spreads her fingers along the red lines circling her ribcage. “I’ll buy you a better one.”

“You just wanna be on me at all times.”

Minghao squeezes her, gets Soonyoung weak, her pussy hot. “Can you blame me?”

Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. She never does, when Minghao gets like this. Sweet, a little filthy. She only knows how to flush. She slides down, feeling Minghao’s hands on her shoulders, her neck, through her hair, as she settles between her legs and pulls her jeans and panties down. Foreplay started eons ago. She’s been wet all this time, been salivating, starving, like Tantalus chained to a rock, just waiting for the chance to taste pussy.

She used to dream about fucking Minghao. It felt so real—it always started with her eating Minghao out. In her dreams, peeling Minghao’s panties off, it was always the sight of her pussy that made her feel like she’d just eaten a bowl of hot coals. In reality, settled between Minghao’s legs, it’s not even the sight that makes her brain go numb. It’s the smell. She forgot how sexy Minghao smells.

She gets right into it, flattens her tongue against all of Minghao’s pussy, and moans into it. She’s too horny to feel embarrassed about it. The taste of Minghao thick on her tongue just makes her moan immediately. In response, Minghao’s thighs twitch and clench a little around her head. She grips her thighs tighter. Pushes them apart wider. Drags her tongue up, slow off her clit, relishing the gentle curl of her pubic hair off her tongue.

All this time, Minghao’s sighing. She gets a fist in her hair and presses her cunt up against Soonyoung’s face, all open to her. Soonyoung just opens her mouth wide. Sticks her tongue out and lets herself be used. Minghao bites on her lip as she slowly, achingly, rocks her clit up and down Soonyoung’s tongue. She pushes Soonyoung’s bangs back and away from her eyes, holding them back in place with a gentle hand, as she moves her hips.

Soonyoung flushes all over. The heat of Minghao’s eyes knives right through her pussy. She squeezes her thighs together, grips Minghao tight by the hips and presses her mouth to her wet cunt, swallowing the heat of it.

Minghao twists her hips away, gasping, as Soonyoung thumbs her clit. She goes back to gripping Soonyoung tight by the hair. “Use your fingers.”

Soonyoung gives her what she wants and sinks a finger into her, gently rubbing the upper ridges of her cunt, mouth and tongue on her clit, a seal and a suction, as Minghao goes tight around her. Hooks orgasm out from her one finger at a time. Two fingers. Three fucking fingers, Minghao arching up into her mouth, pubic bone hard up against her, gasping and moaning like she’s dying—like she’s coming back to life. Mouth to pussy resuscitation, have you ever heard of such a fucking thing?

Minghao just keeps her in place. Locks her in with her thighs, forcing her to stay put, to ride this shit out, as she cums. She gasps. Her chest heaving as Soonyoung brings her down from her orgasm and strokes her thighs slow.

“Fuck,” she hisses, taking in as much air as she can. “Fuck, come up here.”

Soonyoung scrambles up to meet her. Minghao kisses her, tongue slick in her mouth. Bites on her a little. The anticipation is too fucking much, she feels like she’ll cum on sight. Minghao flips her over. Straddles her.

Landing on her back, she’s winded. Minghao settles all over her. The weight of her—fuck, fuck, just the feel of her, the hardness and the softness, makes Soonyoung want to cum. Minghao’s fingers hook into her waistband and Soonyoung just can’t fucking keep still. Squirms as Minghao pulls her jeans and panties down and pulls her flush against her hips. She’s so fucking horny, her entire skeleton is turning to liquid. Minghao’s just got a way about her. She cups her warm mound, giving her just a little pressure to ease the burn.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says soft and low, dragging the finger that was pressed up against Soonyoung’s pussy down her lips. “You changed so much. Everything I liked about you just doubled.” She slowly drags her index finger down the center of her, down her chest to the muscles that tense and jump in her stomach, her abdomen. Soonyoung twists her hand into the sheets. “I wish I’d been there to see you change. I would’ve got my fill of you, every day. I wouldn’t feel like this now. Starved. Gut punched.”

Soonyoung flushes all over. She bites her lip, curls her toes, once Minghao’s hand reaches her pussy. She’s so horny she’s gonna explode. Gasps, digging her nails into Minghao’s shoulder, when she thumbs her clit.

“This hasn’t changed though,” she murmurs, kissing Soonyoung’s chin, her throat. “You’re still so quiet when I fuck you.”

Minghao slides a long finger into her. She works the curve of her, the ridge of her G-spot, while she rubs up on Soonyoung’s clit.

Minghao kisses her. Says, “I get jealous when I think of you with other women.” The heel of her hand presses up against her clit, the pressure is too good for her to handle. Her legs come up around Minghao’s arm. “You this sweet for them too?”

Soonyoung bites her lip red. Minghao thumbs her nipple, pinches her. Forces her to look up at her. “Not gonna answer me?”

Minghao pulls her finger out and slaps her pussy. Not hard, but enough to shock her, make her hiss _oh fuck_. She sinks two fingers back in and grips Soonyoung by the jaw. She’s so red, so fucking wet, you could slide a fist in her. Minghao’s all over her, her tits pressed up on her. Murmurs, “Come on, sweetheart. You tell them I was your first?”

Soonyoung tightens. Unbelievable. The idea that—she gasps. Minghao fucks her hard, palm riding on her clit. That she would say, did you tell them? Did they know, despite having you now, I had you first? Therefore marking her, becoming present in all subsequent times. What hetero nonsense. What possessive bullshit has the wetness of her pussy parting over Minghao’s knuckles, has her holding onto Minghao’s shoulder, as she shakes, gushes, screams.

Minghao isn’t even close to done yet. Soonyoung knows exactly what her next move is gonna be when she grips the backs of her knees and folds her in fucking half. She gets butterflies all in her stomach, still coming down from her orgasm, as Minghao settles on top of her. Minghao likes it like this. Pussy to pussy, long deep strokes, grinding it the fuck out, giving Soonyoung no option but to take it. And then—she’s silent. Intense. Soonyoung blinks up at her, making these desperate little noises, gripping on Minghao’s waist as she strokes deep, touching her all over, her labia, her clit, her inner thighs.

And just like that, the feeling overwhelms her. Minghao just looking down on her like that. Nothing left to say except maybe, I missed you. This Minghao she’s used to. Like maybe she’s quiet during sex, but you should see how Minghao gets. Laser-focused, crazy possessive, giving the term ‘making love’ a whole new definition. It used to be off-putting, if Soonyoung’s honest, until it just got her wet.

Soonyoung cums, just like that. Just holding the thought of how much Minghao waited for this, how much she loves her, the weight of her body and her attention, it’s got her tightening up, cumming hard and without a sound, as Minghao moans low and deep, bowing over her like a shield.

After seven years of exile, Minghao finally returns to Korea.

The message boards go apeshit. Bitches start speculating. Was Minghao back to enact revenge upon PLEDIS? Had her ambition grown, tripling in size, prompting her to start shit with the entire country?

People began twisting their relationship long before Minghao left PLEDIS. Soonyoung was just so transparent. Was mad devoted to her like a paladin to her priest, a nerd to Magic the Gathering, fireproofing the deck before anything else—the family photos, the birth certificate, the RRN. They were romantic, but was it consensual? Did Minghao manipulate her, make her fall in love with her, and consequently blind her to the truth?

More importantly, people were asking: what’s Soonyoung gonna do?

Girl wasn’t even at home base! She was in Shamian not even a day after news broke, the entire block empty, Minghao on her arm. She’s in a bomber big enough to fit two people, shoes giving her half a head on Soonyoung. Hair up, revealing the tender nape of her neck.

When she asks if it’s usually this empty, Minghao turns her entire body away, suspect as hell. “I don’t know. It’s a school night.”

“Man, you aren’t even trying.” Soonyoung laughs, tightening her grip as Minghao tries to unlink their arms. “It’s a Saturday.”

Minghao successfully pulls away. She’s grinning hard, walking backward. “If I lied you would’ve caught me.”

“You did lie and I caught you. What’d you do, huh?” Soonyoung pulls her back in by her jacket. “You make somebody cry?”

Minghao smiles, fingers beneath Soonyoung’s chin. “The opposite. I bought the place out.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

But she did. Minghao doesn’t have to say it for Soonyoung to know it. She just slides her hand across Soonyoung’s jaw, cupping her face. There’s something on her mind. Soonyoung can tell. She’s thinking something over, trying to find the best way to convey her thoughts. She lowers her hand.

“I just don’t want anyone getting in my way.”

Fuck. Soonyoung’s cunt spontaneously combusts. “Nobody’s getting in your way.”

Minghao smiles, without teeth. Does that thing where she lifts her chin up and looks down on her. Regal, regal. “Are we reading the same news? _Kwon Soonyoung,_ most eligible bachelorette of Seoul.”

“They forgot the part where I’m gay.”

“They were hoping it’d go away.”

“What, the gayness?”

“And me.” Minghao’s smile gets some teeth. “The Chinese are corrupting our youth!” she yells, spinning around. “What are we gonna do?”

“Oh my god, you’re so loud,” Soonyoung grins, lacing their arms together. Resting her head upon Minghao’s shoulder.

They walk slowly through Shamian. The crazy white European-style buildings make her feel like she’s anywhere but in China. The tepid grey Pearl River flanking her left. Minghao’s arm warm around her waist.

“Remember when the news came out? You broke the entire country’s heart.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “Everyone hated you, they thought you turned me gay. Fuck, I’ve been gay since Sejong the Great was standardizing hangul.”

Minghao sputters, laughs hard, shoulder shaking beneath Soonyoung’s head. “Six centuries of gay, huh?”

Warmth butterflies through Soonyoung’s stomach. She holds onto Minghao’s arm tighter, chest pressed up against her. “Six centuries of gayness that had nothing to do with you.”

“How would we have met in another life?”

Soonyoung looks down at the floor. They wouldn’t have met. She would’ve been fine with it. Love doesn’t define her life—she likes to think she’d be fine without it. And yet, because Minghao came into her life first before anyone else, she never forgot about her. She measured every relationship that came after against the one she had with Minghao, and they never measured up.

If only they never met. Then she would’ve been fine with anyone. She even would’ve been fine being alone. But now, always, Minghao’s in the back of her mind. Do you make me feel like Minghao did? Safe. Known. That’s the most you can ask of any relationship. Family, friend, partner. All she really wants is to be known, and no one’s ever known her like Minghao has.

“Like normal people.”

“I don’t know if I can go through college,” Minghao says, disgusted. “If I did, that might really fuck me up.”

“Yeah, fuck that. Let’s just stay in this timeline.”

Minghao laughs. “What if we were idols?”

“Stop talking. You’re depressing me.”

“I used to be so jealous of regular people,” Minghao says. “They have everything we want. An ordinary life. A family. But now, not so much. I have everything I want.”

“Really?”

“Well.” Minghao smiles at her. “Now I do.”

It feels like Minghao’s branding her heart with a red-hot iron. Punching it into her, letting it burn. “Go back to the way you were before. I liked you better without game.”

Minghao throws her head back and laughs. She holds a hand to her heart as though she’s mortally wounded. “You’re _cold_.”

Later, as Minghao pretends to straighten out the wrinkles in Soonyoung’s clothes as an excuse to keep her hands on her, she tells Soonyoung she won’t be able to see her for a week. “I have some business in Changsha.”

“I—I could visit you there.”

Minghao smiles. Leans in and kisses her slow, hand on her waist. “Don’t come,” she says, pressing their foreheads together, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Soonyoung never gives it a second thought.

At work, Soonyoung does what she thinks is expected of her. It feels like her personalities are slowly switching. Before, Hoshi was the real one. She hardly stopped working because she was afraid to meet herself without Hoshi. Soonyoung after-hours was weak, folding, miserable. Now, Hoshi feels like the fake one.

“I searched myself,” she whines, swiveling around on Wonwoo’s chair when he arrives that morning.

“Get out of my seat, I don’t want the cushion molding to your ass.”

“You’re a shit psychiatrist. Do your job and fix me.”

Soonyoung teleports the three feet to the crappy couch everybody sits on whenever PLEDIS does mandatory wellness checks. She sinks into the soft cushion.

“You never take my suggestions,” Wonwoo says peacefully, emptying the shit from his bag. “So now you suffer.”

“I wish I could kick your ass.”

“You’d get court-martialed.”

“Yeah but it’d be so fucking worth it,” Soonyoung says. “Come on.”

Wonwoo settles into his chair and wipes his glasses clean. Soonyoung’s overcome with an urge to break them, but she sits on her hands like she normally does whenever she’s near him.  
  
“First of all, I’m not a therapist. Second of all, people are assholes, you know this. Whatever you do, someone’s gonna complain about it.”

“I bust my ass saving the world and everybody’s got something to say. I watch people die, I almost fucking die, I lose everything and people just fucking—talk shit about me on the internet. I just want some privacy, man. I wanna be alone for once, I wanna exist without being judged.”

Wonwoo taps his pen against his chin. “Are you coming to me as a colleague, or as a friend?”

“Both.”

“As your colleague, all heroes feel this way. You’re not alone in this. There’s also nothing to be done, except ignore what people say. You should never search yourself. As your friend, I suggest taking some time off. You’ve been working nonstop; you haven’t had a day off in a month. You need to relax.”

“I’ll relax when I’m dead.”

“Go see your parents,” Wonwoo says softly. “Help out on the farm. I promise things won’t fall apart while you’re gone.”

Soonyoung says what she thinks she should say in a situation like this, where she’s the good guy. “But Minghao’s back.”

“Yeah, so you should be relieved. She’ll be here to kick my ass while you’re gone.”

Soonyoung splits a grin.

“You know, I always thought something was weird about her,” Wonwoo murmurs, swiveling around to his desk. “She never liked me. How could she not? I’m so charming.”

“That’s your litmus test?”

“That’s right.”

“Shit, everyone in this building’s insane then.”

“Alright, so I’m benching you—”

Wonwoo doesn’t even stop talking when Soonyoung comes over and whacks him repeatedly with a cushion, merely raising up one arm to defend himself, laughing as he keeps going: “And everyone you love. Seungchol, Junhui—”

“The joke’s on you,” Soonyoung hisses, smacking him right in the face. “I don’t like either of them.”

“That’s cold,” Seungchol says from the doorway, coffee in hand. “You benching Soonyoung? I’ll sign off for you.”

“Sure—what?” Wonwoo swivels around. “You know you don’t have signing power, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

Seungchol flat out ignores him, walks by him like he’s just air. “So, Soonyoung. You bailed on us the last time—you gonna come out tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

“You said that last time too.”

Wonwoo says, face smushed beneath Soonyoung’s hand, “Am I not here right now?”

“I don’t really feel up to it today,” Soonyoung says, looking away, so unlike Hoshi who jumps at the chance of a free meal.

“You don’t have to be on watch all the time.”

“I know. I promise you I’m not. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Wonwoo snorts. They both turn and stare him down. He looks a little guilty and lifts a folder up to cover his face. “Sorry.”

“Without you and Junhui, it’s not as fun anymore,” Seungchol laments.

Wonwoo says, “What? I’m there!”

“It’s not as fun anymore,” he repeats.

Soonyoung laughs. She loves Seungchol, she really does. If she’s the hero, what does that make Seungchol? The hero to the hero. He should be inducted in every hall of fame, given every honor, written about in books from junior to secondary. It only makes after hours harder when she goes straight from the office to see Minghao, not even five minutes after blowing them off.

With Minghao, so far away from PLEDIS, she feels present in a way she hasn’t in a long time. Minghao who buys her jackfruit and feeds her half bulbs by the hand.

They sit across from each other in the lounge at the long rosewood table. She can’t imagine how many people it took to haul this shit up forty floors. It shines beneath her hands, warm and dark red, up until it hits the cardboard Minghao laid out over the table, jackfruit split all over it.

“We’re really doing this huh?” Soonyoung says, wrestling bulbs from the pulp with plastic gloves. “On an expensive table.”

Minghao rests her chin in her hand, sitting pretty as she watches Soonyoung struggle. “I put out cardboard.”

“I’m sure that’ll help.”

“Hey.” Minghao takes the bulb out of her hand and works out the seed. It shines under the light. This is Soonyoung’s first time seeing an orange jackfruit. “Where’s my thank you?”

Soonyoung obediently opens her mouth. Swallows it down, the smell of it sharp in her nose. “Usually you don’t like doing such bothersome things.”

Minghao smiles. “I knew you’d do it for me.”

The pulp sticks to Soonyoung’s gloves. It sticks all over the knife and the cardboard. The sweetness goes straight to her head. She remembers all of it. The time they spent together sparring first as strangers then as friends. The gradual falling in love, how easy it was to be with her, the intimacy she was never able to recreate with anyone else. Soonyoung pulls off the gloves with her teeth and goes in barehanded fearlessly.

“When did you know I was it?”

Minghao splits open each bulb Soonyoung hands her and takes out the seed. Digs her thumbs into the center and pulls the heart out. “Remember when I came to your apartment to pick you up? My period started on the way over. You washed my underwear and let me sleep in your bed.”

Soonyoung washed Minghao’s underwear in the sink, the blood coming over her fingers, the smell of it sharp. She gave Minghao painkillers and let her sleep in her bed until the pain went away.

“We only dated for two weeks and you washed my underwear. Who does that?”

Soonyoung let her wear her underwear while hers hung up to dry. It was a little strange but who gave a shit? She’d do it all over again. After Minghao felt better, she didn’t even think twice about eating her out. Got down between her legs like it was nothing. Ate her out like blood was merely icing on the cake, shining all over her lower face like she got into something raw.

“And do you remember what you said to me?”

“It was funny then and it’s funny now.”

Minghao’s voice goes all high and nasally as she imitates her. “Dark is the forest, but she who is not afraid of my thorns shall find pussy beneath my cypress trees—god, who the fuck says things like that?”

Soonyoung bites her lip, grin blooming beneath her teeth. “It’s an improvement on Nietzche.”

“Yeah?” Minghao says, leaning back. “Mister to live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. You think you can improve him?”

“Of course. European philosophers only know how to complain.”

Minghao smirks at her. “How’d you know I was it for you?”

She found out when it was too late. At least for Minghao, she knew while they were still together. For Soonyoung, it took years to figure it out. Every relationship was a rebound. She could never figure out how to swing it. She just never knew what it took to recreate what she had with Minghao. What kind of alchemy, what kind of sacrifice, would bring something like that back? And then, she realized, of course, otherwise this story would’ve run its course, that Minghao was special to her.

Soonyoung looks down at the jackfruit. The gorgeous orange bulbs sticking out of the flowering, white pulp. “My feelings just never changed for you. Sometimes I could forget about it, but it’s always there. Waiting to be felt again.”

She’s got a knack for telling the truth, even when Minghao doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to tell the truth even if it’ll kill her, and it will.

Minghao’s chair drags against the floor as she stands. She takes Soonyoung’s chin in her hand and kisses her, hair sliding down her shoulder. Soonyoung catches it in her hand quick before it hits the jackfruit. When Minghao pulls away, the look on her face makes it hard for Soonyoung to believe she’s doing something wrong.

She thinks, as she gathers the silky mass of Minghao’s hair in both hands, that being selfish is the only thing that makes sense.

Victories come. One after the other. With a victory streak like this, there’s always a catch.

She and Xiumin corner an unsub in the congested clusterfuck of Cheongdam Bridge and he responds as anyone would, by throwing a bus at them. Xiumin’s in the clear, but Soonyoung’s standing between in front of civilians. She stands her fucking ground, braces for it.

“Soonyoung!” Xiumin tosses her sword over.

Soonyoung catches it just in time—the frozen handle of it biting into her hand, burning into her, as she raises the sword above her head and uses the momentum of the bus to slice it in half, the long deafening screech of it reverberating through her entire body. When the bus lays split around them, she sees the unsub running.

They break after him. Xiumin’s got a stronger arm. Soonyoung braces her foot against the bus wreckage and rips out a piece of jagged metal and tosses it up to Xiumin. She catches it, spins for momentum, and on that last turn, fucking throws it like a frisbee. Nails the unsub on the back of the neck. He stutters, nearly trips, and that’s all it takes for Soonyoung to get behind him, hand on the metal slab, swiping out his feet and pinning him down. Slams the heavy sharp edge of it down into his throat, over and over again. He can take it.

All the while, she can feel Xiumin staring down the back of her neck, like the sun burning her, just as Xiumin’s sword had seared into her palms.

Fourth victory of the week and she’s still got a hundred websites dedicated to hating her. She shouldn’t hold out for glory. It’ll never come. Captain America saved his country twice over and still gets hate like you wouldn’t believe.

During her debriefing, she tells it as it happened. They were called into Gangnam to address a belligerent super. They saw a crowd of people running out of the traffic as a plume of smoke crested high over the cars. What about the amount of force she used to detain the unsub?

Soonyoung looks up at the ceiling. She chased the unsub deep into the traffic. Smoke surrounded them on either end.

“When has SME’s judgement ever been correct?”

Seungchol smiles a little, cheek in hand, looking a little bored. They do at least three of these a day. “You want that on or off the record?”

“Off. SME’s full of bitches. Put that on the record, please.”

Seungchol strikes it from the book. “Right, so. What about the force, Soonyoung?”

“I used an appropriate amount of force to detain the unsub. There were crowds of civilians on either side of the bridge. He was trying to compromise the bridge’s infrastructure, so I made the call.”

Soonyoung didn’t think of the civilians. She didn’t even think of the bridge. The moment she jumped on him, she felt the anger and frustration rip out of her. Why do I have to do this? Why don’t you motherfuckers ever learn your lesson? But, most of all, FUCK YOU.

Seungchol shuts the book, pencil keeping his place. “Alright, that’s all. You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

He shrugs. “Tired, but what’s new. I meant—how are you, with this whole Minghao situation?”

Soonyoung looks up at the ceiling, tilting her chair back on two legs. She doesn’t know when she became such a convincing liar. When she was younger, she never lied because she always got caught. Adulthood is all about telling the right kind of lies. “I think about what we did a lot. I keep waiting for it to come back at me. It hasn’t yet, but.” She sighs. “It will.”

Seungchol is silent. He says, finally, “Junhui didn’t just call about Jongno.”

Sickness knifes through her. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I didn’t want to burden you, not when you already had to deal with Minghao.”

Soonyoung steadies the chair, landing on four legs loudly. She hates this about Seungchol, even though sometimes it’s not his fault. He’s a product of PLEDIS. Before his loyalty to her, he’s loyal to the company. It doesn’t matter that she’s getting her ass beat to protect their ideals and country. She’s a soldier first, and soldiers don’t need to know shit.

“Junhui wanted to warn us about a drug lord based in Changsha looking to expand overseas. She’s recruiting and Minghao’s on the shortlist.”

“And?”

Seungchol’s face shifts minutely. His tell. “She made the offer. We don’t know if Minghao accepted.”

Soonyoung grips the edge of the chair tight. “Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you tell me when Junhui first called?”

“It wasn’t relevant then. Now that the offer’s been made, there’s a real chance you and I just handed Minghao an opportunity."

She scoffs. “What, because Kyungsoo’s dead? Even if he were alive, I doubt anyone would make a deal with him. He didn’t have enough influence, what the fuck could he have done for the Chinese? Move their inventory a block?”

“Yeah, well. We’ll never know now.”

“No,” Soonyoung insists. “We do know. Stop speculating. Don’t make this about your guilt.”

Heroism is self-serving. Altruism is a lie. That’s self-serving, too. The only reason they’ve made it this far is because the thought of being away from all this evokes a guilt so strong it’ll wipe you off the face of the planet. Looking at Seungchol now, pale in the sharp fluorescent light, she pities him.

“It isn’t about my guilt,” Seungchol snaps. “Can’t you see this is the most probable outcome because of what you and I did?”

“Just because that’s what you think doesn’t make it true.”

There’s a second where they just look at each other. Then Soonyoung stands, she can't handle Seungchol's moral superiority right now. The chair drags against the floor. Seungchol doesn’t try to stop her. “I'm leaving. Call me if something comes up.”

Leaving PLEDIS that night, the air is hot and still. Dry. Light a match and the entire city will combust before your very eyes. The heat swallows her up. Her skin is itchy where the blood dried and crusted. The itch lingers beneath her skin. She still goes to see Minghao.

Minghao’s quiet, that evening. Pensive.

“You okay?”

Minghao lays her chin into her hand, never breaking eye contact. “I had a weird day.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung scratches beneath her chin where she scrubbed the blood from her skin. “Me too.”

Minghao joins their hands over the table. Soonyoung knows she’s gonna ask about her day, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to talk about her.

“I wanna hear about your day,” Soonyoung says, before Minghao can ask, hand tightening over Minghao’s.

Minghao look down. Strokes her thumb across Soonyoung’s rough knuckles. “I’ve been changing in ways I could’ve never predicted. There was always a limit to how far I’d go, and now I’m realizing how little I care for people. I like making money, but not at the expense of innocent people. But then, the more I do this, the greedier I get. The less mercy I want to show.”

She continues, softly. “When I went to Changsha, I was offered a deal. I have to make a decision now. If I take it, then all my morals from the past are gone. And then—I’m not sure how far I’ll go, like this. If I don’t take it, my life will continue being the same. I’ve been discontent for a while. I’m too ambitious to let it end like this.”

Soonyoung says, “I don’t know if empathy will save you. It hasn’t saved me.”

The words hang between them. Minghao’s hand goes lax; Soonyoung pulls back, crossing her arms. She’s treated to a Minghao specialty. Never-ending eye contact, girl was never given a lesson on etiquette.

“I know,” she says, running both hands through her hair. “Scandalous.”

“I didn’t say that.” Minghao leans forward, both hands supine on the table, revealing the delicate inner skin of her elbows, her forearms. Her wrists. Soonyoung acts on instinct. Comes forward once more and lays both hands back into Minghao’s. “What happened to you today?”

“Nothing.” It’s a lie, and she knows Minghao’s aware. “I was angry. I used unnecessary force to stop a villain.”

“You feel bad?”

Soonyoung smiles, fake. “No.”

“Then it’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“It’s something to think about. I don’t think you have to be empathetic toward villains either. Most days, I don’t think you should be empathetic toward civilians either.” Minghao finally looks away. Down, at their hands. “I don’t mean to influence you, but I’ve thought for a long time that people aren’t worth saving. Altruism is a lie.”

“I’m starting to feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but I never wanted you to feel this way.” Quietness settles between them. Minghao is soft, gentle, as she pushes through it. “Does any of this change our relationship?”

Soonyoung already knew the answer when Seungchol told her about the offer. It didn’t elicit any response from her, other than hurt because she had to hear it from Seungchol first and not Minghao.

“No,” she says.


	3. Chapter 3

About a year ago, Oh Sehun successfully imported 20 metric tons of methamphetamine to the industrial port of Busan, just about all of Zhang Yixing’s stock. Not even a day later, he was found dead floating along the coastal shores of Ulsan.

Rumor was, Yixing brought Sehun up herself. A latchkey kid, a low-ranking drug runner, merely fourteen at the time she picked him up and taught him the business. He was family. She trusted him the only way family is trusted, and in the end, he became an informant. All those years building him up and he repaid her like this.

What changed him? In his 27th year, he found a love. Pretty girl from Seoul. It didn’t take long for them to conceive. Suddenly, he wanted to make the world right.

The year following Sehun’s death, the shipments went nowhere. There was no one to move them until, finally, Minghao came. She moves quick, like all she was waiting on was Soonyoung to affirm their relationship.

No one was ever able to figure out how Kyungsoo was distributing product. Turns out, he was distributing through a ring of daycare centers across the city. Porcelain packed into used diapers, rolls of cash stuffed into plastic bags and hidden in milk bottles, shotguns hidden in cubbies right behind the children’s backpacks. Kyungsoo was that kind of bloated son of a bitch. Minghao walks in and shuts the whole thing down. Seoul Metropolitan Police is photographed wheeling out a street value of 12 billion won worth of coke combined from 10 different locations.

The headlines say: XU MINGHAO, BACK FOR REDEMPTION? Spread all across the country, one for each major press. Soonyoung feels—honestly, proud that the entire country has eyes on her.

Minghao’s first move upon returning to Korea was to dismantle what was left of Kyungsoo’s operations, a move neither SME nor PLEDIS could accomplish. Seeing Minghao like that, so effortless in her heroism, had the entire country believing in vigilante justice just for a second. The message boards won’t stop blowing up.

All the while, Minghao hits up the British Museum again. Not once but _twice,_ just to show she can. Their security upgrades were like using a piece of paper to battle a hurricane. She tore right through them. Bullets, psi shields, second-rate heroes. She takes the remaining Rembrandts, the Parthenon Marbles, the entire 5th floor of Chinese collectives and returns them to the CPC. They say they’re not collaborating with vigilantes or criminals, but they accept the gift nonetheless. When she’s not on the news, she’s in Korea laying out the logistics for the biggest drug shipments between China and the U.S.

Still, she’s never too busy to see Soonyoung. Even in the middle of work, if Soonyoung calls then she’s done for the night.

Soonyoung lounges in the living room as Minghao finishes up her shower, looking through a stack of newspapers fanned neatly across the coffee table. It’s just like Minghao to collect newspapers with herself headlining. She hears the bedroom door open; the smell of cigar smoke spreads languidly through the suite.

On the frontpage of the _Chosun Ilbo,_ Minghao’s never looked finer. Sunglasses on, stone-faced, exiting one of Kyungsoo’s buildings. It’s a little strange to look down at this Minghao only to turn and see the real one in the flesh. Her hair’s wet, gathered all over one shoulder, bathrobe tied loosely at the waist and open at the chest. In the dim purple light of the darkening sky, Soonyoung can see the orange ember of Minghao’s cigar.

“Like what you’re reading?” she asks, leaning against the wall.

“Just the photos.”

“You’re gonna make me jealous.”

Soonyoung bursts out laughing. She puts the paper down. “Don’t say shit like that. Makes it sound like we’re in a porno.”

Minghao grins, coming to sit next to her on the couch. Soonyoung picks up the crystal ashtray from the coffee table and holds it in her lap. She watches as Minghao reaches over and waits patiently for the tunnel of ash to fall. Her eyes track the cigar back to Minghao’s mouth, the gorgeous pink of it puckering, white teeth bearing, the ember crackling as she takes a pull. It’s rare that Minghao will smoke. It’s as much of a treat for Soonyoung as it is for her.

Minghao lifts her arm for Soonyoung to come under. She shakes her head and leans up against the opposite end of the couch. “I wanna watch you.”

“Sure.” Minghao just smirks at her a little, mouth back around the cigar. “What's on your mind?”

“This whole thing with Zhang Yixing. Why are you doing this kind of work? You could do so much more on your own.”

Minghao considers it for a moment. “I can learn from her. She changed the way I approach things. She’s the kind of person that will open doors to me, whole new ways of thinking. There hasn’t been someone like that for me in a long time. I realized learning how to conduct business has far more influence and reach as opposed to just using my powers. If I learn how to think differently, from a more critical point, my powers will be much more useful to me. There has to be a balance. And.”

She tilts her head, birdlike, charming. “I don’t think of winning anymore. I know I can win. My powers guarantee it. In any capacity, I can get what I want. But I want to see what I’m capable of accomplishing without my powers. After I figure out these next few years, after I become a stronger, more intelligent version of myself, there’ll be plenty of time left for world domination.”

Soonyoung must be fucked up in the head if that gets her horny. Minghao at 20 was an absolute beast, could clean you out even without her powers. The Minghao now, after losing her powers, gained it back twofold. Image the damage she could inflict with just another decade. Minghao at her peak would be a weapon like no other.

“Always so worried about me. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Junhui’s working every angle she has to get at Yixing. Now that I’m working with her, I’m not sure what the possibilities are of her finding out about our relationship. It may be significant.”

She thinks of Junhui. They all came from PLEDIS; they all have the same dogged traits. Get them young, get them all the same. Get the ones that work hard, the ones that will drive themselves into the dirt just to protect what they believe in. The gun comes preloaded and all you need to do is aim it.

Minghao takes a long pull, exhaling a long tunnel of smoke into the air, right from her tanned throat. Proof of sunny shores.

“I’ve longed for you all this time,” she says, after the air has gone from her lungs, head still tilted back. She looks down, confident as hell. Soonyoung’s heart constricts, like Minghao just phased an arm through her chest. “You can do anything you want to me and it still wouldn’t change my feelings for you.”

“I’d never give you up so easily.”

“I’m saying, I don’t care if you do.”

Translated to, I don’t care if you betray me because you’re a good person. I love you even though the possibility of betrayal is always there. I love you in spite of that.

“Minghao,” Soonyoung croaks.

Minghao rests the cigar in the tray, takes it and places it back onto the coffee table. She’s got more than half left on a _Robaina,_ as though she hadn’t already convinced Soonyoung she loved her.

Soonyoung holds Minghao’s waist and kisses her. Doesn’t know how else to show her affection without trying to absorb her. When she looks at Minghao, her heart swells with gratitude. She hasn’t felt like herself in a long time. She hasn’t felt peace in even longer.

She knows the good part of her is getting burned out. If this ever gets out, it’s over for her. She’ll never live it down, and no one will ever think it’s her fault. They’ll blame Minghao for it, they’ll blame it on everything but themselves. Vulnerability, homosexuality, morality.

No one will think she changed all by herself, that her relationship with Minghao was a mere product of that change.

The thing about being a superhero is, you’re at an immediate disadvantage. The entire fight you’re thinking about the best way to minimize casualties and preserve as much of the city as possible. Soonyoung used to restrain the villain, securing the perimeter first and foremost, but now she starts throwing her weight around. Lands as many hits as she can right from the start. Her fighting becomes brutal, ruthless. In a phrase? Bad PR. Her performance stats spike off the charts.

Now that she’s out of it, she can see she was in a deep funk. She got used to her depression and how it felt cast over her, but now with the clouds rolled back and the sun out, she feels brand new.

“You’re different these days,” Seungchol tells her after she brings in her fourth villain of the week. He grins at her. “You meet someone?”

“What?” Soonyoung turns away. “No.”

“You did!” he crows. “You totally did—and you didn’t tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Whatever, it’s new. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Seungchol examines her. She clears the test, because he won’t stop smiling at her. “What’s she like?”

Soonyoung’s pretends to think about it. “Stable. Makes me a little nervous. Just my type.”

Seungchol raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been real cozy with Seokmin lately.”

“Is she even into women? Try again.”

“Oh—don’t tell me. You finally got close to Taemin?”

“Pft, I wish. When you leave PLEDIS for SME will you give her my number?”

“Who said I’m leaving for SME?”

Soonyoung looks at him. “You will.”

Seungchol fidgets a little. He starts ripping apart a napkin sitting on his desk. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m turning my back on something.”

“PLEDIS was your first job out of college. Because of the amount of time and energy we invested into this place, it feels like they’ve invested the same amount into us. But it’s all business. Don’t feel like you’re turning your back on PLEDIS because you aren’t. When you mix emotions with business—that’s when you lose. Trust me.”

“Is this a business to you, Soonyoung?”

“Not to me, but to the people who run it. I denied it this whole time. If you want to make the most change, go where the money is.”

Seungchol makes a conflicted face. He puts the napkin down and turns his chair around. “I wish Junhui was here. She’d know what to say.”

Viciously, in her heart, she knows Junhui will return to feed Seungchol’s stupidity, and vice versa. She doesn’t want to be around to see it.

Time moves torturously slow without Minghao. First meaningful interaction she’s had in years and she’s lonely without it. While Minghao’s figuring out how to ship 20 metric tons of meth across the Pacific undetected, Soonyoung’s public approval rate skyrockets. And when Minghao’s around?

She slicks up the strap. Fucking grips it in her hand and lets it fill her palm. Soonyoung flushes just watching the elegant curve of Minghao’s body, the dark sheet of her hair, the downward curve of her tits, her abs, all the way down to the red strap-on slick in her fist.

Minghao comes after her, knees dipping into the bed. Says, “Spread your legs. Let me see it.”

She’s short of breath, god. Straps usually aren’t her thing but on Minghao the anticipation is too much to handle. Minghao holds open her knees, presses them up to her chest. She looks down, then up, eyes dragging up her pussy like a finger. Soonyoung’s thighs tense.

“Want me to stretch you?”

She swallows. “I don’t need it. Just—go slow, please.”

She’s been fucking herself the entire time Minghao was gone. Being apart from Minghao spawns a horniness she just can’t curb. Simply put? It feels like kneeling over a bed of coals. She wants to cum just from the pressure of Minghao’s hands on her thighs moving up to the outer edge of her pussy, thumbs spreading her open.

She _slow-_ly sinks the head of her cock in. Just the perfect amount of bite and stretch that has Soonyoung squirming for it, her entire face burning. Minghao doesn’t sink in all the way just yet. She keeps it shallow, fucking her slow just past the head, thumbs massaging the sensitive muscles of her pelvis and inner thighs. Soonyoung’s just too damn sensitive—she moans high and tight, legs trying to jerk closed around the heat of Minghao’s cock and hands.

“Keep your legs open,” Minghao says, voice low, slowly thumbing her clit as she rocks forward. “They close and I stop.”

Soonyoung makes a desperate noise and stops trying to close her legs and just holds onto Minghao, thighs squeezing her waist as she fucks her. Just the slowest, barest stimulation, and she’s gonna cum. Minghao stops the moment it hits, keeping her thumb pressed to her clit, as she arches and tries to get more of Minghao inside her. Minghao won’t budge. Has her cumming just from the head of her cock and the relentless pressure of her hands. It’s only after her first orgasm that Minghao pushes in all the way, tucking the head of her cock right up against the curve of her G-spot.

Minghao pins her down with her hips, holds her down, let’s her get used to it. True to word, she goes slow. Lays cock with a precision. And when Soonyoung’s ready to take it, she fucks her like a machine. Holds both of her wrists behind the small of her back and uses it as leverage to fuck into her harder, the sound of it obscene, the wet squelch of her pussy around Minghao’s cock burning her ears.

She releases her wrists and orders her to keep her hands right where they are as she thumbs the tightness of her asshole and slowly presses in. Fucks Soonyoung through her third orgasm that night. Fingers in her ass, strap in her pussy, biting her all over.

“Please,” she says, blushing, “will you please ride my face?”

“You didn’t have to ask.” Minghao flips her hair over her shoulder as she straddles her face, cock all up in her face, wet and slick from her pussy. “I was going to give it to you.”

Soonyoung swallows hard. She slides her fingers beneath the straps secured around her ass and hips. “Then, can I—?”

Minghao just smirks. “Sure.”

She undoes the strap and reveals Minghao’s gorgeous curls. They’re soft against her face. She’s all damp, perfect to mouth at. Her pussy lips velvet soft against her mouth. Minghao gasps and rides her hips forward when Soonyoung flattens her tongue against her clit. She’s mind-blowingly hot. Nipples hard, head thrown back, settling her weight on her knees and over Soonyoung’s face, grinding forward selfishly. She grips Soonyoung tight by the hair and doesn’t let go.

Minghao controls the pace; she takes it slow. Her hips twitch a little as Soonyoung works her jaw, watching the flush build up from her chest to her face. She touches Minghao all over. Her tits, the pinch of her waist, the flare of her hips. Holding her down to her face as she twitches more and more.

Having her cum on her face is truly a miraculous sight. Just feeling it all over her, shudders sweeping over her body, thighs shaking, as she moans quietly and tightens her hold on Soonyoung’s hair.

Soonyoung’s on her the moment she’s done, fuck downtime. She flips them over, Minghao hitting the bed hard, head narrowly missing the headrest, as Soonyoung pulls her down and toward her, Minghao laughing at her all the time, still winded.

“Can’t get enough?”

“Hell no,” Soonyoung says, sliding a finger into her, Minghao hissing against her mouth. She rubs all over her pussy walls and pushes in a second finger, Minghao arching up, moaning. Soonyoung’s blushing all up to her fucking eyeballs.

She slides all the way down to Minghao’s pussy and fucks her slow, getting her all over except where she needs it most, until she’s twitching for more. She presses right up on her G-spot and flattens her tongue on Minghao’s clit, feeling how wet she is everywhere, working her jaw sore, until Minghao goes tight, legs coming around her neck like a double-sided guillotine. Entombed in pussy, can you think of a nobler way to go?

Being together with Minghao like this, she can finally put her feelings into words. She feels, for the first time in a long while, at ease. Not happy per say, but damn near it. This contentment in knowing, in one hand, she has the truth, and in the other she has Minghao. If only she could keep this forever.

But if her peace shares the same lifecycle as Seoul’s, then we all know peace never lasts for long. Whatever peace you find, you cannot keep.

Not even a week later, Soonyoung kills someone.

The unsub held an entire floor of children hostage. She came in through the window and fought him hand-to-hand across the floor. When it became clear he couldn’t win, he turned on a kid and Soonyoung lost it. She felt an anger she’d never felt before.

She garroted him. Forced the wire so deep it cut down to the spine, slicing into the pits of her hands. Felt the strength leave his body, laid him down on the ground, gasping as she did it.

She could’ve talked him down. She didn’t have to garrote him. It was just the best way to disarm him. She could’ve stopped before killing him, but she didn’t. She kept going and going. Blood spurt in a concentric pattern across the floor. Over her shirt, her hands, her neck.

It’s a defining moment in her life, number one on the highlight reel, the emptiness bursting out of her chest like some kind of creature. You should’ve seen the footage of her evacuating the kids from the building with blood all over her. You would’ve thought she was mortally wounded and still fighting for the greater good. Hoshi’s indomitable will holding steady as always.

The emptiness and blood trail after her all the way back to PLEDIS, to the showers where the water runs red, pink, then clear.

Seeing Seungchol in the debriefing room, she knows exactly how she’s gonna play him. It scares her a little, because she came in wanting to tell the truth. Now that she’s here, watching Seungchol push forward a cup of shitty coffee he made just for her, all she can think of is how exhausted they are all the time and how PLEDIS doesn’t really give a shit about any of them—especially not Seungchol who they made IT support, mission support, and HR all in one. They’re just fucking suckers, is what it is.

He pours in creamer and sugar, stirs it for her as she pulls out the crappy fold-out chair and takes a seat. “Are you okay?”

Soonyoung slouches forward. “No.”

The awful fluorescent lights hum. Every single fucking row, humming in sync. Seungchol gestures to the cup. “You should drink something before we start.”

Soonyoung takes the cup. Drinks slowly, bit by bit, letting it warm her up.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was answering a distress call. I knew he was a haemokinetic going in, civilians surrounding the building had evidence of haemokinetic trauma. I knew I had to take him by surprise—if he suspected I was in the building he could’ve easily incapacitated me. I went in through the window, but he was still too strong.”

“You knew he was a haemokinetic and went in without backup?”

“Of course.”

“Of course?”

Soonyoung runs a hand down her face. “It’s what we’d all do. I thought about what I’d risk if I waited.”

Seungchol is stone-faced. “I’m not sure you can claim this was in self-defense or for the defense of others.”

“He was about to kill a kid,” she grits.

Seungchol goes silent. His pen stops. “Does that make it okay to kill him?”

“What kind of loaded question is that? He was a threat to everyone in that room. I analyzed the situation and I made the best possible decision in the moment.”

“If your emotions hadn’t overtaken you, you would’ve realized he’s a glass canon. I understand a life was at stake, but that doesn’t warrant you reacting in the same way. You’re a hero for a reason. You’re supposed to know better and act better than everyone else.”

Soonyoung freezes over entirely. “You’re telling me I should’ve gone easy on him?”

“What makes him any different?” Seungchol says, hand tight around his pen. “You’ve encountered worse. You _snapped,_ that’s what happened. You’re not judge, jury, and executor.”

“I stand by my decision,” she hisses, standing. “I don’t give a fuck. You wanna bench me? Go for it.”

Seungchol stares her down. “How you’re acting right now isn’t doing you any favors.”

Soonyoung laughs. “You guys up here—you fucking board members, directors, whatever the fuck, you’ve never been down there. You’ve never had to fight or make those decisions for yourself. You have no idea how it feels and yet you’re always trying to impose your ideals onto the people who actually do your work. And, you know what, Seungchol? You’re being taken advantage of and you don’t even know it. PLEDIS disguises greed as justice and you haven’t even noticed. I’m fucking out of here, man.”

Nobody comes after her. It’s not like anyone can stop her, anyway. She goes straight to Minghao, the only person she wants to talk to these days. She doesn’t even want to talk—silence with Minghao is better, more satisfying than a conversation with anyone else.

She crawls into the bed and feels the weight of the day pin her down. She’s too worked up to sleep but too exhausted to do anything else but lay in bed. The shadows turn long against the wall, the light disappearing, when finally, she hears the front door unlock.

She hears Minghao come in. She quietly makes her way through the suite and comes up to the edge of the bed, her hands coming beneath the blanket.

“You in there?”

Soonyoung comes out. Minghao looks exhausted in the dark. Dark circles beneath her eyes, a gauntness to her face. But she’s still here.

Minghao kneels by the floor, looks her straight in the eye, hand on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Soonyoung covers Minghao’s hand with her own. Leans into it miserably. “I killed someone today.”

Minghao says nothing. The silence is enough. The sound of her saying—oh, shit. She brings her other hand up to Soonyoung’s cheek, thumb on either cheek. Stroking slow, bringing all her secrets up to the surface.

“My morals are changing,” Soonyoung croaks, closing her eyes tight, room dark all around them. “I don’t feel bad or guilty anymore. All I felt was satisfaction when I killed him.”

“Did they deserve it?” Minghao asks, after a while.

Soonyoung’s quiet. All she feels is gratitude. For Minghao, always, for understanding her when no one else will. She admits from the swirling pit of her, spitting it out, _“Yes.”_

“And do you feel bad?”

The truth is, it doesn’t feel like she’s descending—the opposite. She’s ascending.

Soonyoung lays her head down. Minghao perches her chin on the edge of the bed. “I don’t.”

“If you don’t feel bad, then don’t force it.” Minghao’s eyes lower a little. She reaches out and tucks Soonyoung’s hair behind her ear. “I always think about how righteous I used to be. It never did anything for me. Like you said, empathy won’t save you. Neither will righteousness. It doesn’t matter how right or good you are.”

“You think if I were a villain, I’d get everything I want?”

“Depends. What do you want?”

“Peace. Freedom.”

Minghao curls her fingers around Soonyoung’s elbow, sliding in, until her palm covers the crook of her elbow. Fucking crazy, how hopeful Minghao looks, backlit in the bedroom. If they deteriorate, they can at least do it together.

But then Minghao says, “I don’t think you’d like being a villain.”

“You don’t think I could do it.”

Minghao laughs, caught. She grins. “Why say it like I’m insulting you?”

“Because you are.”

“I’m not.” Minghao’s voice is soft, hand going from her elbow to the back of her neck. Bringing her in close, mouth-to-mouth. “You can come with me if you want. We could go on the run.”

Soonyoung closes her eyes.

“If it’s for you, I could live a more modest lifestyle.”

It’s Soonyoung’s turn to laugh now. “You can’t handle a life on the run. You’d rather sit around in some fortified mansion where PLEDIS can find you.”

Minghao smiles. “I’d rather die than live any other way. Come with me. We’d never be in want of anything.”

Soonyoung’s heart nearly stops. Doesn’t matter, because Minghao’s coming up her.

“Come with me,” she whispers, up against her cheek.

Against the back of her neck. Come with me, punched between cervical axis two and three, the weakest part of the spine, the hangman’s fracture. All it takes is a little bit of aim, ten pounds of force and a good swing to decapitate someone. All it takes, as Minghao cradles the back of her neck, the other hand on her hip.

As Minghao kisses her.

Turns out, in PLEDIS, there are no repercussions to killing someone. Best coverup in history. Better than the U.S. in Hawaii, that shit was _unseen_ and undone.

Seungchol talks big but he’s just stunting, as always. He might run half of PLEDIS’ operations but that doesn’t mean he has any power. Soonyoung gets off with just a mark on her record, and a mandatory leave. No psych sessions.

Seungchol can’t even look her in the eyes as he tells her the Board elected not to bust her ass only if she goes on leave. She wants to know if he understands why. No matter how noble PLEDIS likes to seem, in the end they’re still a corporation. They need to sell something to survive, and they like to deal in moral goods. Their bestseller? You can guess it.

She’s out for a month, drops off the face of the planet. Leaves her phone and pager at home and stays with Minghao the entire time. While Seoul’s razed and pillaged, Soonyoung’s making dinner with Minghao. A giant blackhole opens up in the center of Itaewon and eats up all the skyrises and the foreigners? Too bad because Soonyoung’s wrist deep in pussy.

“Don’t you have work?” Soonyoung says as they prepare dinner together. Minghao at the countertop, Soonyoung dissembling a crab in the sink. “You’re always with me.”

“Why do you sound antagonistic all the time?”

“I don’t!” she says sheepishly. “That’s just how I talk.”

“So, you admit that you sound antagonistic.”

“Whatever. Shouldn’t you be stealing candy from babies?” The crab breaks between her hands, separating the shell from the body with a satisfying crack.

“Is that what your intel is telling you?”

“Is it wrong?”

Minghao smirks at her. She goes back to cutting chilis, gloved fingers curled delicately at the knuckle. “The intel on our end isn’t so great either. My subordinates love talking shit about Jihoon.”

“What?” Soonyoung laughs, laying half the crab down on the chopping block and lining up all the joints, knife poised to go down. “What do they say?”

“That PLEDIS is done for if Seungchol leaves for SME. Jihoon can’t run info and tech.”

“Fuck, that’s what I said.”

“He still can’t talk to women huh?”

“He’s…not the best. What else do you guys talk about?”

“How hot Suho is.”

Soonyoung slams the knife down, cutting three legs clean off. She holds the claw and rotates the body, knife sharp on the joint. “Shit, we talk about that too.”

“You do?”

“That’s all we talk about.” Soonyoung glances over at Minghao who’s looking sour. She grins. “What, jealous?”

“Me?” Minghao makes a fast recovery, scoffing. “Maybe if I didn’t know how whipped you are for me.”

“I’m not whipped for you.”

“I’ve had you locked down since day one, baby. Remember those love letters you’d leave in my locker—”

Soonyoung cuts the crab’s body into three even pieces, knife coming down three times, drowning Minghao’s voice out, cheeks burning. She tilts the cutting block up and angles it into the sink, sliding the crab into a plate. The blood running gray-blue into the drain. “I changed my mind, you’re not eating tonight.”

“Minghao!” her voice goes high in a poor imitation of Soonyoung. “I’ve admired you for so long, first as a hero then as a colleague, but now my feelings have changed from admiration to love.”

Soonyoung fast-walks away from the sink. Minghao follows after her, laughing, peeling the plastic gloves off. She grips Soonyoung by the waist and spins her around. Soonyoung hisses, one hand holding the plate of crab, the other flat on Minghao’s chest. But then she looks up and the affection in Minghao’s eyes almost knocks her on her ass.

“I started admiring you after that, even though I didn’t know it was you leaving all those letters.”

Soonyoung gulps. Minghao smiles. “But I admired you.”

“It became mutual. I liked how brave you were.”

Soonyoung blinks furiously. Feels, suddenly, stupid holding this plate.

Minghao laughs. Noses at her, takes the plate out of her hands and lays it down on the counter. “You still gonna give me something to eat or not?”

There’s never enough time to do what she wants. Time is fucking brutal, ticks like a bomb about to go off. One tick, Minghao laying beneath her, body lit up under the waxing waning lights of Guangzhou Tower.

The next, Minghao haggling with shopkeepers the way only a local knows. Minghao buys her so much crap she doesn’t know how she’s going to store everything. She never says no, because she knows it’s all part of Minghao’s plan to carve out a place in her life. That when she opens her cupboards, she’ll see Minghao there. The drawers, the closet, the shelves. The kind of evidence you can’t get rid of, the kind you just have to live with.

“Growing older just gave me perspective,” Minghao says the day Soonyoung’s due to go back to Seoul. She watches Soonyoung pack her things. “I don’t hesitate anymore. Life is too short to deny myself things.”

Soonyoung looks up at her, confused.

“I want you to know where I’m coming from, in case you had any reservations about me being with you in spite of my business. The nature of my work means I can die at any moment, and I don’t want to live with any regrets. I wanted you for so long.”

Soonyoung bites her lip, so fucking pleased. “Me too.”

“Good.” Minghao walks over and kisses her. Pulls away, eyes fond. “Then, have a safe trip home.”

Home is half a second and two thousand kilometers away. She’s not looking forward to the emptiness of her apartment. When she opens the door to her apartment, shouldering a ton of stuff behind her, she sees it’s not empty after all.

Junhui’s sitting on her couch, waiting for her to come home.

So here’s what happened.

Yao Mingming’s a six-year plant in Zhang Yixing’s group. Two years in, he saw Yixing for the first time. Another two and they finally spoke. With Sehun’s vacancy, he made it into Yixing’s ranks.

Mingming tells Junhui about Yixing’s year-long nightmare, and that a powerful telepath named Minghao recently got involved. Yixing's moving the business overseas; first to Korea to take advantage of the loose trade laws with the States, then to the States herself. The deal involves two industrial powerhouses—Lu Han of Beijing and Huang Zitao of Qingdao.

Prior to all this, Zhang Yixing was unknown. She hustled day in, day out. The type of person who doesn’t even take their birthday off. All that blind ambition and discipline and she finally made something of herself.

There’s just one thing Yixing’s unhappy about, Mingming tells Junhui. Minghao’s girl in Korea. Rumor is, she’s sleeping with a hero. Now, who else could it be?

Junhui merely looks at her in silence. Soonyoung knows her cover’s blown the second she walks in through the door. If it comes down to a fight, she can take Junhui. Junhui’s got height on her but Soonyoung fights like a cornered animal these days. Fast, strong, and unpredictable. She has her exits covered.

Junhui says, “I know.”

Soonyoung holds silence.

“You have nothing to say?” Junhui leans forward, dragging her hands down her face. “You break bread with the enemy, and you have nothing to say to me?”

She thought she’d feel more honestly, but the shame just isn’t there. There’s no way, no possibility, no future where she stands in front of Junhui guilty and ashamed. If anything, she doubles down. Junhui staring her down does nothing but piss her off. She liked Junhui’s righteousness up until she was on the receiving end of it.

“I didn’t tell her anything about PLEDIS.”

“She’s a telepath,” Junhui snaps. Junhui who’s only shown her anger twice in all their years of friendship. “You don’t need to tell her anything.”

Soonyoung’s blood starts running backwards. “She would never.”

“And you trust a villain? She’s what, different now? She just facilitated one of the biggest drug shipments between China and the U.S. and you think she’s not evil? You think she loves you? You don’t think she could’ve possibly used you? You were always chasing her. If it was you, you would’ve stopped her before she even got _close_ to shipping one kilogram.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is true?” Junhui says, voice low in the dark. “Because the way I see it, you’re an accomplice now. You were complicit the second you started your relationship with Minghao. If this gets out, PLEDIS is done for. You’ll be charged as an accomplice and we won’t be able to do anything about it.”

She doesn’t know what to say, because all of it is true. All this time she was just waiting for someone to find out. And she knew that if one day someone did, she would have nothing to say.

“What happened, Soonyoung? Why did you do it?”

What is there to say? She doesn’t want to admit anything. Most of all, she doesn’t want to tell Junhui about the despair that ate her up this whole time. If precedence tells her anything, it’s that Junhui will end that shit right here. What can she say to get Junhui back on her side? And then—she thinks, of course.

“I’ve loved her all this time,” she says miserably. “When she came to me—I couldn’t stop.”

“That’s why? You lost your mind over love?”

Junhui will believe her because she doesn’t have a reason not to. She can play it off as stupidity, a moment of weakness, and she knows exactly how to blindside Junhui. She knows how many loves Junhui lost to her job. The universal, encompassing loneliness you can never quite shake off.

“More than that,” Soonyoung says, eyes watering. “PLEDIS doesn’t care about us. As long as we can fight, they don’t care how bad it gets in our heads. When Minghao came to me, I couldn’t reject her.” Her tears come freely now, her breath in deep big shudders. “It was just too much. Just being around someone familiar was comforting enough.”

Junhui doesn’t fall for it exactly, but it gets where Soonyoung needs her to be. “You compromised everything.”

“I know.”

“The safety of your colleagues, your family, the people you swore to protect.”

“I know,” Soonyoung says, still crying. “I know.”

Junhui’s eyes pin her to the spot in a way they never have. “Then you also know I will never forgive you for forcing me into a position like this. What am I supposed to do? I’m burdened with this—what you did was unforgiveable, your life and career could be ruined, and now that decision is on me.”

Soonyoung says nothing, she just cries silently. She feels bad, honestly, for dragging Junhui into this.

“Fix it,” Junhui finally says. “Break it off, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung keeps her head down. She doesn’t watch Junhui as she stands and walks out without another word, door clicking shut behind her.

When Junhui told her to end things, Soonyoung thought for a split second, are you fucking crazy? But she’s the crazy one. She’s out of her goddamn mind. Hasn’t been sane for the past year, yet the Soonyoung that was walking this earth before all this feels fake to her now. An imposter.

Forget about saving people. What about herself? The moment she saw Junhui on her couch, she knew if things went to shit, she could join Minghao. Which isn’t to say she lost her mind over love, but that her current life isn’t worth holding onto. Her life in Seoul isn’t much. She’s been miserable for so long she can’t imagine living here without an overcast. Her relationship with her family deteriorated, she resents PLEDIS and all her friends. There’s no escape from heroism. It follows you to the grave.

How much are her values really worth? Can she live with herself if she joins Minghao? Will she think, at the end of her life—or even if she dies a month, a year from now, that it was worth it? She can imagine it clearly in her head. Going away with Minghao, becoming complicit in all her deals just by merely breathing the same air, and doing nothing to stop her. She already did it. What’s a little more?

For days, Soonyoung does nothing but consider her next move. She has to figure this out on her own. If she sees Minghao now, she knows she’ll go with her. Minghao will do anything it takes to get her to stay.

The day Minghao returns from Beijing, she calls Soonyoung. She sounds so happy it gets Soonyoung’s stomach all up in knots. Everything’s going her way. The business is good, the relationship is good, her parents are happy and healthy. She doesn’t want to be the one to ruin it. For a second, she even thinks about not telling Minghao.

“I feel so good,” Minghao flirts. “You make me feel good.”

Something so simple and Soonyoung’s down on her knees. She loves Minghao so much. “And you made me a better person.”

She laughs. “Most people would say the opposite.”

“Most people are stupid. They don’t know shit.”

Minghao catches on, just like that. The mood changes instantly. “Did something happen?”

Soonyoung bites her lip. “Junhui knows.”

Silence. There’s no way to gauge Minghao’s emotions, her reaction. “Are you safe?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, squeezing her eyes shut. “Can I see you now?”

For the first time, Minghao arrives before her. Soonyoung walks slowly through the quiet dark suite, Guangzhou Tower shifting neon colors around the room. The evidence of Minghao pointing all fingers at the bedroom. Her keycard on the coffee table, purse on the sofa. Further into the suite, past the living room and into the dining room, her suit jacket draped over a rosewood chair, the sensitive red inner lining of her jacket reflecting the tower light.

Through the open bedroom door, she sees Minghao before Minghao sees her. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through her phone. The cool blue light on her face, hair tucked behind her ear, as she casts her eyes down. Up.

Seeing her framed through the bedroom door, knowing what she knows, makes her ache. Minghao was lost to her for so long. Even eight years wasn’t enough to heal her. Soonyoung comes up to the bed, coming into Minghao’s warm arms, her hands big and strong on her back. It’s hard to imagine Minghao is bad for her. She challenges her. Forces her to accept a more conscious version of herself—forces herself to actually fucking think about how she wants to interact with the world.

Minghao’s hands move from her back to her ribcage, just holding her steady, thumbs right beneath the flare of her ribs. Holding her close.

“I have to make a decision.”

Minghao’s hands tighten. Relax. She rests her forehead on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Did you?”

“No,” she says softly. “Not yet.”

She pulls away a little and holds Minghao’s face in both hands. Minghao looks conflicted. She thought about what she wanted to say on her way here, but now that she’s in front of Minghao, there’s nothing she can say to make it better.

Minghao wraps her hand around Soonyoung’s wrist, fingers resting on the delicate skin of her inner wrist. “I’d do anything to keep you around.”

“I know,” Soonyoung whispers.

She thinks of the long, relentless days she dragged herself through before Minghao came back into her life. Her light in the dark.

“Tell me,” Minghao says. “Let me help.”

Soonyoung smiles a little. “How are you gonna help when you’ll do anything to keep me around?”

Minghao presses their foreheads together, the safety of her hair coming down all around them like walls. The smell of her conditioner. Soonyoung buries a hand in her hair, holding her tight.

“Give me a little credit,” she murmurs. “All I want is for you to be content.”

Soonyoung makes a pained face.

“I want you to come with me,” Minghao continues, “but it doesn’t matter how I feel. Not when it’s your life you’re giving up in order to be with me.”

Soonyoung feels her heart in suspense. She draws away. And here all this time she was thinking about morality. “I thought about it through a moral standpoint. I’m not sure if I can run away with you and watch as you become more and more successful.”

“You were alright with it this whole time. Why do you think you’ll change in the future?”

“I don’t know. All the decisions I made—I’m afraid they won’t matter in the future. Look how heroism turned out for me. I don’t know how this will turn out either. Maybe my feelings will suddenly change for this, too. Not for you, but for the situation.”

Minghao is quiet. She says, finally, “You’re talking about being able to make a choice. You want the freedom to make choices without serious consequences. You wish you had known the truth about heroism so you could’ve chosen differently, and in the future you want to be able to walk away from the decisions I make. But you won’t be able to. Running away to be with me, I would be your entire life. What kind of life is that?”

Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Trust Minghao to know how she feels before she does. She asks, softly, “What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t run.” Minghao turns her face away. “I don’t like the idea of my life being bound to someone else. I’d never be able to leave. I’d never have a life of my own.”

“Why can’t I see you anyway? Why can’t I—fucking retire, I don’t know, and see you?”

From the side of her face, Soonyoung can see Minghao’s face twist painfully. “It’s not worth it.”

They sit in silence, after that. Until Soonyoung comes over, slinking into Minghao’s arms. Minghao accepting her, as always.

“I could alter her memories,” Minghao suggests quietly.

Soonyoung considers it, of course she does. But even she knows she can’t delay what is inevitable. And, most importantly, the thought of doing something like that to Junhui makes her recoil.

“No,” Soonyoung says. “I can’t do that.”

Minghao rests her chin over Soonyoung’s shoulder. Murmurs, “Then think about it. I won’t stop you if you want to come. But if you decide not to, I won’t blame you for that either.”

Soonyoung says nothing. Merely closes her eyes as Minghao wraps her arms around her.

When she was younger, her path was so clear to her. She was gonna marry Minghao in New York. Their marriage wouldn’t hold up in Korea, but still. _Marriage_. She makes fun of heteros all the time for such basic stupid dreams, but the truth is she wanted it for herself, too. She wanted to be afforded such simplicities. Marriage, a home, a child. Now, pushing thirty-one, the future is opaque to her.

She isn’t sure what to do, but what she knows is this:

She should never choke off her options.

A week is nothing more than staying in Guangzhou with Minghao. Walking behind Minghao, watching her long ponytail sway behind her. In the past, she’d want to wrap the incredible length of Minghao’s hair in her fist, twist it up like rope, but now the sway of her hair just makes her want to cry. The familiar sound of her heels, the pattern of her walk. The sound of her eating. So gentle and birdlike, the curve of her wrist as she holds chopsticks.

Minghao doesn’t ask her about it again. She also can’t keep her hands off of her. Wants her close, nearby, at all times. With Minghao, intimacy gets kicked into a whole different gear. Soonyoung does things with her she’s never done with anyone else.

She thinks about it now, as she carefully cleans Minghao’s ears. The weight of Minghao’s head in her lap, all her hair pulled to the side. She can’t remember the last time she did this for someone, she doesn’t even do it for family.

“When’s the last time you had your ears cleaned?” Soonyoung says, shining a light into Minghao’s ear canal.

Minghao hums. “Can’t remember. I use eardrops now.”

Soonyoung’s gentle. She carefully scrapes at Minghao’s ear canal. It’s suspiciously clean.

“Oh—it was you. You cleaned my ears. A long time ago.”

Soonyoung furrows her brows, because of course she did. “How come I don’t remember?”

Minghao smirks a little. From above, Soonyoung can see the slice of it cutting into her face. “You’d forget your name if you didn’t hear it every day.”

She bites her lip. Knows this is her cue, but these days she finds it hard to joke about anything. The misery just about burned the levity out of her. She strokes the shell of Minghao’s ear. Lingers where the flashlight shines through the thinnest part and turns it orange-red like a sunset.

Minghao must sense something is wrong. She sits up, but Soonyoung won’t look at her. She won’t. She turns her head away. Minghao places her hand on Soonyoung’s jaw and tries to get her to look straight.

“Soonyoung.”

Her eyes are red in the warm light. She knows they are. She knows how she must look right now. Wrecked, as she places her hand over Minghao’s and meets her eyes. There’s nothing left to be said.

Soonyoung leads her into a kiss. She doesn’t want to talk anymore; she just wants to hold Minghao. Wants to feel her heartbeat against the palm of her hand, the comforting warmth of her body, wants to press up all over her. She lays Minghao down against the bed. Kisses her slow.

Minghao arches her back as Soonyoung slides a hand under her and unhooks her bra. Kisses Minghao a little while longer before sitting up. Minghao’s pink in the light, breathing heavy. Soonyoung takes a second to admire it. Slides her hands up Minghao’s abs, her chest. Thumbing at her nipples, flushing as she moans.

She sheds her clothes and dives back in, leaning over Minghao. Holds her close. Tries to fucking absorb her—chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hand to hand. The sweat mats Minghao’s hairline, and when she turns onto her stomach, the light hits the long terrible scar neatly cutting her in half.

Soonyoung kisses the length of it as she pushes her fingers into Minghao’s slick pussy. She eats Minghao out like all her cerebrum’s good for is mass, suction on her clit and fingers against her G-spot, working her mouth and hand sore.

Minghao flips them over. She pushes the mess of her hair back and gets to it. She places her hands on Soonyoung’s thighs, opens her up, and presses their clits together. Gets up real close and personal and rides it out slow.

Soonyoung feels like she’s fucking drowning under it all. She gasps like it, like her emotions reached a viscosity, a density, and is now drowning her. She’s gonna cry. She grips the sheets tight in her hands, Minghao’s hair falling down all over them. Soonyoung gripping a handful of it as she cries, trying to twist out of Minghao’s grip as she cums hard.

Her gasps are terrible, awful. Minghao strokes her back, her thighs, her sides. Wrings the sensation out of her. Kisses her until she comes down from it, then slides down. Presses her open mouth against her pussy, stroking her labia, her asshole, slowly thumbing her clit, massaging her, until she cums again. And even then, she doesn’t stop. She pushes her fingers back in, the heel of her palm giving Soonyoung just enough friction to cum again.

“I can’t,” she gasps, closing her legs around Minghao’s arm.

Minghao ignores her, because she can. She opens Soonyoung’s legs and bars the distance between with her shoulders, fucks her fast and deep until Soonyoung stops moving—just arches her back, mouth open. Usually, she likes to look down. What can she say? It’s visceral, watching Minghao fuck into her, her pussy wet all over her hand, but today.

“Look at me,” Minghao says, breath on her stomach. “Come on.”

Soonyoung’s hips twist up a little. She looks down. Minghao’s not very talkative when they fuck. Maybe a little, when she’s in a good mood. A lot, actually, when she wants to get a response out of her. Today is neither of those days. Minghao’s face is wrecked. In pain, in misery.

They don’t speak. Minghao collapses over her. Soonyoung holds Minghao tight by the back of the neck, the warm cleft of Minghao’s pussy pressed up against her thigh. It’s weird how sometimes you know, preemptively, when something will stick with you forever. It’s this. How Minghao feels against her, all warm and soft, all quiet.

It’s nothing but silence and the quiet whirr of the AC as they move from the bed to the shower. Minghao stands beneath the faucet, head hanging, hair parted neatly over the nape of her neck. The fleshy white scar turning her skin pale and pocked along her spine. Soonyoung lays her head against the back of Minghao’s neck. There was a time when Minghao never showed her back to anyone, not even when they began dating. It took nearly a year before Minghao would let Soonyoung close like this.

She’s silent even as she sits on the toilet lid and allows Soonyoung to do her skincare. She takes her time with it. Whole new territory for her. She goes at breakneck speed when she’s doing it for herself, but for Minghao, she takes her time and massages each layer into her skin. The serum and the moisturizer, spreading it down her neck. It’s thick. Minghao’s got dry skin. Bad skin, if she’s being completely honest.

“You’re done,” Soonyoung whispers, voice nearly cracking.

Minghao’s eyes are red around the rim. It’s a strange moment. They just stare at each other. She doesn’t know what to say. She feels it deep in her chest. The love of her life is staring at her and she has nothing to say.

“Do you think you’ll find someone you love more than me?” Minghao finally asks.

She can't talk, she can't. If she does, she'll start crying. She shakes her head.

“No one ever came close?”

Again, again. Shakes her head, the lump in her throat expanding.

Minghao looks down, the bright bathroom light showing the dark bags under her eyes, revealing how tired she is in the light. “Me too.”

Sometimes, it feels as though the force of her feelings should be able to move anything. Push any mountain, part any sea. But she isn’t so young anymore. She understands strong feelings don’t serve any function other than to cripple you.

Minghao cradles the side of her face, whispers, “I’ve been losing sleep over you.”

Not over anything else. Her, a drug lord.

“You should put me out of my misery, Soonyoung.”

Heat spreads all over her chest, eyes and nose. She knows this will be the last time she will ever see Minghao. “You already knew?”

Minghao smiles, sadly. “Of course.”

Soonyoung loses all the strength left in her. She goes to her knees, gripping Minghao’s knees tight, as she sobs, “I’m sorry.”

“You should never apologize for doing what feels right.”

Tears come down her face like she’s fucking melting. She can’t breathe through it. Minghao lifts her face, and Soonyoung holds onto her tight, sobbing, her entire chest moving, shudders running through her body.

Minghao’s face is full of pain, like she’s being slowly run through with a sword. “There’s no love in this world you can’t recover from.”

Soonyoung cries even harder. You should’ve seen the rebounds. Eight years to build a new love and she still couldn’t do it. Eight years to build a relationship even close to what they had, and it never happened.

“But if you ever need me. If you ever want me—”

“Stop,” Soonyoung croaks, hands around Minghao’s wrists. “You gotta stop.”

Miraculously, Minghao does. She doesn’t say another word about it, but the silence is stifling. Back in the bedroom, they’re quiet as Soonyoung helps Minghao get dressed. Fastens her bra as Minghao lifts up her damp hair, holds up her dress shirt for her to slide her arms through. Soonyoung steps in close to button her up and fasten the last of her jewelry. Her cold heavy watch latching onto her wrist like a shackle. Her bracelets and rings, turning her wrists to see them catch in the light. All the fucking shit in the world and she can’t have this.

And, finally, her shoes. Soonyoung kneels for it. Minghao places a gentle hand upon her shoulder to steady herself as Soonyoung sticks her fingers in the backs of her heels and eases her feet in. Minghao stands half a head taller than her, eyes red. Her hair smells like the hotel conditioner. Soonyoung tries her best not to cry. She doesn’t think she can handle anymore.

“Walk me to the door,” Minghao says, eyes down, voice hoarse.

It’s still night. The suite is lit up with lights. No dark corner to bump into as they walk to the doorway, Minghao gathering the last of her things while holding onto Soonyoung’s hand. At the door, it looks like she wants to say something. Soonyoung does too. Something to show Minghao the sheer magnitude of her emotions, but it’s impossible. Minghao stops. Starts.

“Be safe,” she says, leaning in to kiss Soonyoung on the cheek.

Soonyoung bites her lip. Her eyes water instantaneously. She wants to hold onto Minghao as she withdraws, but she loses her chance.

Minghao turns around and is out the door.

Soonyoung’s retirement piece finally releases on _JoongAng Ilbo_.

There’s a part of the interview—the woman asks her how she’d describe this past year. Soonyoung had merely looked down at her hands. It was a brutal year. More than a year passed since she started feeling differently about heroism, since she saw Minghao. When she wasn’t working, she was sleeping eleven hours a day. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself and let her fingernails and hair grow out. The depression hit her so hard it felt like even the chance of being happy again evaporated. This past year moved hellishly, incrementally, not wanting to let her go.

Whoever PLEDIS has in their pocket at _JoongAng Ilbo_ does a good job. The article says nothing about Soonyoung’s miserable silence. It reads: she grins, the classic Soonyoung smile we’re all used to seeing, a cheeky, victorious smile, and said this past year’s been good to her. She’s only thirty-two. It’s always spring, for her. She’s bitter reading it. Not everything ends happily.

Her relationships changed completely. She lost the energy to even pretend. Seungchol saw her as wounded and unfixable. Weak, of course, but he still treated her right despite the kid gloves and baby proofing the shit out of each conversation. Ultimately, it was Soonyoung who chose to turn away. With Junhui, she never reported her, and their relationship ended completely.

Last she hears of Minghao, she and Yixing make a nasty team. A fucking two-pronged approach, a one-two punch. With Minghao on her side, she becomes untouchable. She still comes out to fight villains on occasion. People stop mistaking it for heroism and start seeing it for what it is: sport. She’s getting stronger and they all know it. PLEDIS prepares for the day she inevitably grows tired of Yixing’s business and moves onto something bigger.

None of it matters now because she’s turning away from it all. Seoul’s somebody else’s problem. She’s going home. _Home_ home. Back to Namyangju, back to her mom, back to the Mitochondrial Eve.

On her last day, PLEDIS throws her a retirement party and officially inducts her in the hall of fame right next to Nana. Everybody in the business comes. Her entire family comes. The lights are too bright and her head hurts, and there’s too many people who want to talk to her at once. She escapes, taking the stairwell up from the reception hall to the conference floor, the rail cooling her hand as she ascends. The hollow sound of her shoes spiraling upward.

The floor is completely empty. Rows and rows of bouquets line the floor. The week of her retirement, the entire city was sending her flowers. The brightness of them pop out in the dark room. She feels bad just leaving them laying around like this, but there’s nowhere else to put them.

Soonyoung dips her head and slowly walks the room to read the tags and cards. The beautiful flowers make her happy—there’s a shit ton from JYP. One from Jihoon that says, simply, thank you for your service. She flips the card around in her fingers and feels a little affection for the motherfucker. He’s not half bad after all.

She wants to read on, but a box catches her attention. PLEDIS made it clear they were only accepting flowers. She picks it up, curious, and sees it’s a box of pastries decorated with roses. The graphic up front shows one cut in half, the delicate flakey pastry surrounding a beautiful rose filling. The only gift in a room full of flowers without a card and acknowledgement. It’s just like Minghao to be contrary, to not send flowers but to send something flower-like.

She holds the box gently in her hands, feeling its preciousness. The pressure of the last year erupts inside her. All the loneliness, the regret, the misery. She holds the box to her chest and quietly begins to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading my thinly-veiled exo-m fic, i hope you enjoyed!


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